


Dragonglass

by Steampunk_Seahorse



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones Book
Genre: Anal Play, Angry sansa, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Oral, Magic, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Minor Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Mutual Masturbation, Queen in the North, Sandor has slight violence kink, Sandor is a broken man, Sandor only sweet for his little bird, Sansa is a healer, Sansa is a pain slut, Sansa is smarter than she appears, Sansa isn’t helpless, Sansa learns from Sandor, Sexual Tension, Subspace, The King in The North, Vaginal Sex, Violence, dick choking, dubcon, little bird, not bdsm, sansan, the hound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2020-02-10 05:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 134,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18653791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Seahorse/pseuds/Steampunk_Seahorse
Summary: Just a thought I had that turned from a one-shot into a multi-chapter fic. Focuses on the main show storyline (loosely) but with the major what if's for Sansan, like what if they both left after the Battle of Blackwater. The story kicks off (after preface) during the Bread Riots, some events are out of order for better story flow.





	1. Preface

**In Winterfell**

 

Sansa chased her brothers around the old godswood tree. Being the youngest between herself, Jon, and Robb, she was ‘ _it’_ ; a fact that she rather resented. She raced around the tree and tagged Jon, “You’re it!” She squealed in happiness, then shrieked as he turned to chase her. She jumped over the snow-covered root and raced down the hill. Jon wasn’t so lucky. He tripped over the concealed root and tumbled down the hill, landing on his back.

 

She raced over to him, “Are you okay?” Jon didn’t respond and Sansa saw red staining the snow under his head. She screamed, “Robb get Father!” Her tiny hands tried to move her brother but he was older and bigger than her. “Jon! Jon!” She shook him.

 

“Stop!” A greenish-brown hand grabbed her own, “It will hurt him more.” Sansa looked up into yellow eyes. Sansa tried to wretch her hand back trying to get away from the strange woman,  “ Shhh, I’m here to help.” She said to Sansa. The creature's skin looked a mix of smooth skin and bark and held the color of a new branch extending to the sun. Unconvinced Sansa leaned away from the woman even though she still held her arm, “Trust me little Stark.”                                           

 

“Please help him.” She asked the creature.

 

“I can’t, but you can.” She grabbed Sansa’s arm who gave a muted whimper.

 

“Why not?” Sansa asked, why couldn't the lady just help her brother?

 

“Because he doesn’t belong here,” She didn’t wait for Sansa’s next question, “I’ll give you a gift but you must promise to only use it on those who are worthy.” Mutely she nodded. Sansa felt buzzing in her arms and body than her mind followed by a soothing wave of cool.

 

“ **SANSA**!” She and the other looked up to see her father and Robb standing at the top of the hill. Her father stopped Robb from running down the hill and knelt down. “A child of the forest,” he whispered to Robb thrusting his arm out to stop his son from flying down the hill.

 

Sansa looked back at the greenish woman and felt the need to say “Thank you.” to the Child of the Forest as the being released her.

 

“Press your hands to him and will him to heal, child.” She said. Sansa did just that. She gripped the back of Jon’s head and willed it to be better with no ache or illness. She willed him to be healthy and strong.  Jon groaned under her ministrations and she blinked back tears. Sansa turned to thank the strange woman again but she was gone.

 

“Sansa, what happened?” Jon asked her.

 

“You felled.”

 

“Fell?” he stretched up and rubbed the back of his head.

 

Her father and Robb came down the hill slowly now that Ned could see Jon was awake, he asked his only daughter, “Tell me exactly what happened, tell me what she said.”

 

“The pretty lady helped Jon...wait ...no. She said she couldn’t help Jon, but I could. She touched me and I got all buzzy and then I was able to fix Jon.”

 

“You got ..buzzy?” Robb asked.

 

“Yeah! Like...like bees in springtime.” She said excitedly.

 

“Robb take your brother back to the castle.” Robb helped Jon up and together they went up the hill. When they were gone, Sansa’s father sat down heavily on the ground and in the snow, something he rarely did. “Do you know what just happened?”

 

She gave an irritated huff, she had just told them what happened, “Jon felled…”

 

Her father smiled, “Not that, the one you met just now.”

 

“No…”

 

“She’s a child of the Forest. She was here when the first men came here to Westeros. She helped your and my ancestors survive winter after winter. And sometimes they gave gifts to those very special people with very special hearts.” Sansa gave her father a confused look, “She saw how you are very special, my Sansa. She gave you the gift of healing.”

 

Sansa looked down at her hands, “She said she couldn’t fix Jon. She said he didn’t belong here. She said to only use it on those who are worthy. What did she mean?” None of those things made sense to her, her brother was her brother. “Jon belongs here just like I do.”

 

A hint of sadness crept into her father’s eyes, the same sadness that was there whenever mother argued with him about Jon, “I’ll tell you about Jon when you’re older Sansa.”

 

“Its because mother hates him, isn’t it? Because his last name isn’t Stark.”

 

“That’s part of it, little one. It has nothing to do with his worth, all children and animals are worthy. Keep your promise to her, Sansa. And keep your gift quiet; men will seek you out if they know what gift you have and they will hurt you.”

 

“Yes, Father.” She took his hand when he stood, and they left the Godswood.

 

That night, Sansa set out warm milk and honey for the pretty lady hoping to meet her again, but she never came out, pouting she went back to the castle wishing she could talk to the child again.  In the morning when she went to pray with her father, the glass was empty. After that, she’d started training with Maester Luwin, learning about the body and all the Children's lore.

 

**King’s Landing 15 years later:**

 

Sansa sniffled, wiping away the tears. She had been confined to her rooms since the day the Lannisters took her father into custody. Since he had stupidly trusted Lord Baelish. A fresh wave of tears assaulted her, but a slight knock on her door interrupted her and she quickly she rushed to it. Had her father been released? Yanking open the door, she expected to see a knight or a guard... but not Lord Varys, “My Lady. Come with me quickly.”

 

“Why? Where are we going?”

 

“I don’t have much time, I can get you to your father.” Sansa took his soft hand and closed her door. She didn’t know why the Spider had come to her aid but she was happy for it; a chance to speak with her father could save his life. She gripped her skirts in one hand as they descended the stairs that would lead them to the dungeons. After so many twists and turns she no longer had an idea of where she was going until finally, a door appeared in front of them, “The black cell.” He whispered to her, “Go now, see him. I will knock on the door when it is time for you to leave.” He took a torch from the wall and handed it to her.

 

Murmuring her thanks she rushed into the room.

 

“Varys?” Her father's voice sounded weak, so weak. She found him sitting among the rushes, his face dirty and his hair tangled, he squinted in the sudden light of her torch, “Sansa?” his throat croaked with the lack of use.

 

“Father,” She kneeled down next to him, hugging him fiercely, “Varys brought me down here. Why did you do that father? Why did you lay bare Cersei's secret.”

 

“How did you know?” He asked her.

 

“I’m smarter than you or mother think.” She grasped his hand needing the contact.

 

“You can’t marry him, Sansa, you can’t. He does not have a claim to the throne, no claim to anything.”

 

“You must renounce what you said, I can convince the Queen to let you take the black.”

 

“You want me to lie?” He scoffed at her, shocked she would say something like that. Sansa was a good girl she never lied.

 

“Yes!” She hissed, “Lie and live!”

 

“Words stop meaning anything when Northmen lie.”

 

“Do you want your words to mean something or do you want to live? Do you want to see your grandchildren one day? Please father! Please lie! You can go to the wall and be with Jon and Uncle Benjen! Please!” She wanted to scream at him but forced herself to keep her voice at a strained hiss.

 

“Sansa, listen to me.” He tried to reach out to her but was chained to the wall and couldn’t reach her face, instead, she took his hand in hers again. “Wipe those tears from your pretty face and listen to me.” he said softly, “I need to tell you something very important that no one but Jon can know.”

 

“About Jon? Father, we can’t talk about Jon now! I need you to think about your own life no one else’s right now!”

 

“He’s not my bastard!” He whispered, at her stunning Sansa into silence. “Do you remember the child of the forest?” She nodded looking down at her hands, the memory of the green-brown woman surfacing, “Jon doesn’t belong in Winterfell. Your aunt Lyanna- she is his mother.”

 

“What? Why are you telling me this now?”

 

“Because I made a promise to Jon that I can’t keep. Keep it for me, Sansa. Tell him.”

 

“His father?” Sansa asked Lord Stark hung his head, “The only way Jon does not belong in Winterfell is dependant on his father. If he’s not your bastard, then... who’s is he?”

 

“Do not tell him unless you are in person. Do you understand me? This information is dangerous.” she nodded, “His father is Rhaegar Targaryen.”

 

Sansa stared at her father absolutely dumbstruck, “Your aunt and he married without anyone knowing. He never kidnapped or raped her.”

 

Varys knocked on the door and quietly she stood up. “Sansa…”

 

She cast her gaze down on her father and for the first time she saw how old he was, scars and wrinkles littering his face. His grizzled beard wild and untamed, “Your Aunt named him Aegon. Tell him that. Tell him I’m sorry.”

 

****

 

Sandor winced at the blood-curdling scream that rent the air above the din of the crowd. His head snapped to the other dias; the girl was falling to the ground. He shoved men out of his way to get to her. Lord Stark’s last command was to protect his daughters, one promise The Hound intended on keeping. The little bird slipped from the Kingsguard’s hands and fell to the ground, he shoved those man away too and picked her up.  Everyone ignored him as he scooped her up and into his arms.

 

Shoving through the courtiers he took the little bird back to the keep and away from her father's bleeding corpse.

-

She woke to being set down gently on her bed strong, warm arms, leaving her body cold and vulnerable. Her eyes opened to see the scarred visage of Sandor Clegane there, a hint of worry in his eyes. When he saw her eyes were open, the worry evaporated and the customary hate took its place. “He’s dead.” she whispered through her sob, “He’s dead and he can never come back, I can’t fix him! And it’s my fault. I should have gone home years ago.”

 

“Aye little bird, you should have. Not shit you can do about it now.”

 

“What am I going to do?” She cried out.

 

“Survive little bird. That’s all you can do.”  

 

“I hate him, I want him to die.” Sandor clapped his hand down on her mouth, his hand wet from her tears. She didn’t jerk away from him or scream or give him one of her false courtesies.  

 

“No treason from you, unless you want to join your father with your pretty little head on a spike. Then how can you help your family?” Her eyes widened, “That’s right, you’re not safe anymore. Daddy can’t protect you from that little cunt.”


	2. The Deal

**3 Months Later**

Sansa was sweltering under the southern sun, even in her thin pink silk dress. The sun beat down unbearably intense on her. She gritted her teeth, feeling the pain in her gums as she stood behind the Blond King. _ If only she had a dagger _ . It would be so easy to kill the king, she would forfeit her life but it wouldn't matter- her tormentor would be dead. Her brother could finally go home as their father would be avenged. But she didn't have a dagger. Instead, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to play the sweet princess from the North. 

 

“Princes don’t cry.” Joffrey made a comment about his younger brother sniffing at the departure of their sister.

 

“I saw you cry once.” She said remembering when Nymeria had defended her sister Arya.

 

“What did you say?”

 

She bit her tongue cursing herself for not thinking before she spoke, “My brother cried when I left Winterfell.”

 

“Is your brother a prince?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then I really don’t see the relevance.”  He spat at her and left the small port. Sansa waited for Tommen's septa to follow, taking the small boy with her. She held up her skirts as she followed them, thanking the old gods she had not grown any taller since her 16th nameday. Though she had filled out in her hips and chest, making her more of a target in court. Men openly leered at her, some grabbing and pinching when the King wasn’t looking. She followed her fiance and his family in through the city, her head down, playing her role of the scared insipid woman. She had started to understand then, in her first year in King’s Landing, that this is was not an honorable place and started to understand that her father would not last long as Hand of the King. She had started listening to Baelish's whispers, learning to play ‘The Game’ as he called it. 

 

People lined the streets to catch a glimpse of the king as they always did. Sansa wondered how much of what was happening in the Red Keep actually made it down to the city below. She wondered if they knew the King held feasts regularly while they all starved, she herself was prone to giving half her meal to her favorite maid, Shea.  They called out Seven blessings on him, and Sansa snorted. She crossed her arms and walked after The Hound and his charge, her maids flanking her. Unconsciously she compared the two; The Hound was broader, taller, though she suspected he didn’t delight in the torment of others, unlike his charge. She knew his story; he’d told her while on the road, telling her to take her to look at him while he did. 

 

Their relationship had only grown since she came to the capitol. Their conversations ranging from his favorite wine to her favorite color, stupid insipid conversations that were occasionally punctuated by a violently drunk Sandor threatening to kill her should she tell anyone his particularly deep and story. Unbidden, Lord Baelish’s voice came to her, telling her the same story, telling her that Clegane would kill her if he found out she knew. She remembered the way The Hound’s voice had rasped whenever he told her he would kill her if she told anyone and the way she’d reached out to his face to touch him. But he had snatched it before she could. She wondered how he would look without his scar, her mind’s eye couldn’t quite accomplish the task. She suspected she didn’t want to; he wouldn’t be the same person without it. She shoved down the warm feeling spreading through her chest whenever she thought of Sandor or thought of their private conversations. 

 

Sighing, she glanced over at her two maids flanking her. She knew they were spies but who’s she couldn't tell; Littlefinger’s or the Queen’s... it didn’t matter. Sansa dared not even keep her private thoughts within hearing distance of anyone, and as such, she had developed the necessary acting skills to keep her captures thinking she was a small, helpless, stupid girl. 

 

She had started by isolating herself after her father's death and intended to become what they called her; The Ice Princess. It suited her just fine. Joffrey had even started to use the name after her small, shy smiles toward him stopped.  Even still, the name prompted thoughts of home. It would be summer now, ice lilies blooming and grass as far as the eye can see. Rabbits would be abundant and would be chasing each other the way she and her siblings used to. She needed to find her way home before she married Joffrey and was forced to share his bed; she had one year before the King could legally marry when he turned ten and six. 

 

The thought sent an involuntary shudder through her body. So far she had managed to placate him by using just her mouth, professing her stern belief she needed to say untouched before their marriage as befitting his station as a King. Joffrey had seemed to lap it up, so she continued to play to his ego, and that of all the other players around her, Sansa had discovered a long time ago she was  _ adept _ at playing the game, and the best way for people to underestimate her was to play stupid. Ego, she had long since decided, was the death of people in King's Landing. 

 

A splat sounded and a roar snapped Sansa’s head up. Joffrey had brown muck splattering his face. He was screaming some command that she didn't hear, and she turned and saw the people who just seconds ago had been standing in respect for their king turn into a hungry mob. Her internal thoughts of the Hound and Joffrey dissipated as the crowd rushed at them.  Sansa shoved her maids to the ancient wall and followed them, her hands scraping the stone as she ran alongside it, heedless of the stains and scraps now on her pink dress. She hid behind the king's guard and used it to shelter her retreating form. 

 

She lost the royal procession in the dense mass of screaming and brawling commoners against guards. Other ladies screamed, their silk dresses ripped to pieces as their bodies were exposed to everyone. They were forced to walls or the ground, carnality, and beatings happening around her. She shut the screams of the women out of her mind, focusing on her path forward. She had to find a way back to safety! Someone grabbed her hair, yanking her back as she shrieked. She spun around and shoved her assailant away, not waiting to see if he would return she ran, racing further along the wall,  heart pounding in her throat. The Royal Guards were breaking formation, and the angry mob behind her to snatched more courtiers through the holes in their defenses. Sansa felt hands ripping her silks and trying to drag her into the fray, she ripped her gown back from the unseen attacker on a scream and spotted any alleyway.

 

The guard finally broke as soon as she reached the mouth of a narrow alleyway. A man stepped in front of her, forcing her to come to an abrupt stop as he leered at her. She turned from him only to find herself circled by two more. Shaking with terror she bolted into the alleyway but she wasn't fast enough-! They followed her down the corridor. Panic speared her chest as she turned and saw no way out; a dead end met her eyes. 

 

Sansa whipped around hearing the footsteps of the men right upon her, her loosed red hair blocking her vision for a few precious seconds and she blindly struck out against her attacker. When her palm made contact with the man's thin face, fire and indignation rose up through her, pushing back her fear. She refused to die in a back alleyway of  _ Flea Bottom _ that smelled like shit and hate! And she refused to be violated by these men.  The man struck her hard across her face, the force of it making her lithe frame spin and fall to the ground on her belly. She scrambled to her knees and tried to get back to her feet, but hands grabbed her legs, dragging her back to her belly. She screamed out in terror when she felt one of them lay on her and growled in her ear, breath stinking “You ever been fucked, girl?” He forced her around, pinning her to her back, other unknown hands descended on her wrists and ripped her stockings. She twisted her body, struggling against the men, screaming, begging them to stop. 

 

She pulled up her knees, “ **NO! NO NO NO NO!”** She cried out through tears of sheer panic. The man between her legs glared down at her as he fought with his laces, ordering the others to hold her down. Hot tears ran down her face as she jerked her body this way and that. It couldn’t end like this!  Dread caged her breath as the man finally freed himself.  She clenched her eyes shut and turned her head, refusing to look at her attacker when he violated her. Sansa braced for the pain, braced for the ugly man with the rotting breath to get on top of her, but-

 

Nothing happened. 

 

An odd silence surrounded her and she turned her head back. No one was between her legs anymore. But the Hound held her assailant by the throat.

 

***

 

The Hound ripped the man off the Stark girl with a vicious snarl. He lifted the man so he was eye level with the massive man’s and gutted him, watching the pain fill the would-be rapist’s eyes. He didn’t know if he had a blade or not, hot intestines splashed down to the ground, splattering his greeves with gore and covering his hand. He dropped the dying man and grabbed another running away from the scene. Now the feel of the cold dagger filled his palm as he killed the man, gutting him just the same.

 

Sansa was still on the ground still being held, she tried to rip her hands from the man still pinning her to the ground she screamed causing her rescuer to turn and bellow his rage at him. The assailant released her instantly and shot to his feet trying to run around her and the warrior; Sandor snatched him and cut his throat away from the sight of the little bird. Slamming the dagger back in its sheath, he listened to her whimpering cries and anger boiled his blood. He turned, the girl's eyes met his, her blue eyes boring into his with more unshed tears. 

 

He reached down, “You’re alright now, Little Bird. You’re alright.” Sansa took his hand and was pulled her to her feet. She fell forward against, him not giving him time to pick her up. Her little body pressed against his she huddled herself against him, her breaths coming in short hard gasps. A sob erupted from her and The Hound was taken aback. He looked down at her red hair and bare shaking shoulders, she gripped his leather armor in her tiny hands, burying her face against him. Sandor forced back his rage, his mind racing; a small woman was leaning into him for comfort,  _ him _ . Not just any small woman Sansa Stark, pure sweet and soft was clinging to him like he was some gods-be-damned-hero. 

 

Unsure, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her closer to him. The action only seemed to make her cling to him more. “You’re alright now Little Bird.” He whispered to her, “Come on now.” He knelt down and picked her up, she buried her face in his neck and wrapped her arms around his neck. The subtle smell of lavender and blood wafted up to him.  He needed to get her back to safety, she didn’t need to see the carnage the city had turned into. He shoved people out of his way as he stalked back to safety.

 

The doors of the keep flung open to admit them. He saw Tyrion Lannister gawking at him, and out of habit, he forced the burned side of his face out of the dwarf's view, into Sansa’s red hair. 

 

He set the girl down gently among some maids, her hands still clutching at his armor as she slid off of him. As gently as he could he pried her hands from him and stepped back. Tyrion hurriedly waddled over to her, “Are you hurt, my Lady?”

 

“No,” She said softly.

 

“Little Bird is bleeding, someone take her back to her cage. See to that cut.”  The women closed in around her. Sansa looked up, her arctic blue eyes piercing him. His chest tightened, anger ran rampant in him- he didn’t know why this girl made him so angry. The tears in her eyes were gone now, cold shock having replaced them. 

 

“Well done Clegane.” The dwarf said.

 

“I didn’t do it for you.” He said gruffly. He stepped out of the doors and away from her eyes. 

 

He needed to kill something. 

  
  


**That evening:**

 

The Hound sat in the mess hall along the barracks, he broke a loaf of bread of tried to focus on the thin stew in front of him. He always ate alone, no one daring to bother him. He had bullied everyone off and was glad of it. He lifted the spoon to his mouth when her blue eyes flashed in his mind again, pain-filled and scared. Why could he not stop thinking of her? _Well, more than normal._ He didn’t notice his spoon hanging over the edge of the untouched bowl of watery stew. He wanted to go see her, make sure her maids had given the Little Bird a bath and something to help her sleep, he wanted to make sure she had a guard at her door.

 

The Hound snorted. Her maids would just slam the door in his face at her behest. She was a girl that loved songs about beautiful princess and flowers and general fuckery. Despite soft hands gripping at him, he was only a dog; an ugly one at that. He focused on the rough wood of the table under his fingers, determined to stop thinking about blue eyes, red hair, and small hands. Suddenly three other men sat down next to him, pulling him from those thoughts forcefully and  Sandor wanted to snap at them to move on. Then he noticed the gray and white stripe painted discreetly under one pauldron. The remaining Stark men had just come off watch then. He wondered if the Spider knew or cared. The largest and oldest of the men turned to him, Sandor noted his hair was more salt than pepper and bit off a piece of his bread, “Fuck you want?” He asked, unable to bear the silence.

 

“Name’s Daris.” 

 

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is. What do you want?”

 

The youngest spoke up, “We know. What you did, I mean.” His voice was deeper than the Hound expected. “We wanted to thank you for saving Lady Sansa.” He was direct and to the point. The Hound could enjoy that in a man. 

 

“Dran.” The older man snapped a warning. 

 

But Dran leaned in closer to the others, “You know as well as I if Clegane hadn't gone back to save our Lady, the King would have left her to that fucking mob.” Sandor gripped the tankered he was drinking from and heard it crack. The other men only looked at him, and he set the cup down as gently as he could. Why should he care what the king did to the girl? She wasn’t his charge, the King was.  _ Then why did you go back for her?  _ An inner voice taunted him. 

 

It shouldn’t surprise him, but it did all the same, that someone so pure could be betrothed to someone so cruel. The men around him continued to talk in hushed tones. He didn’t listen, and instead, he pushed his stew away. Dran eyed it and Sandor waved him off, letting him have the bowl. 

 

He let the other men sit around him, finding himself actually enjoying their company despite himself since they didn’t talk politics or rotations. They simply had a conversation about meaningless shit and he let them fade into the background of his thoughts. His brain continued to find its way back to the Stark girl, what right did he have to even wonder about her safety?  _ She’s the only one at this damn keep who will look at me,  _ he thought to himself. But he wasn’t from the north like the men around him. His house was of the Lannisters. Gifted. He sneered to himself; Clegane Keep was more ruin than a keep. At that moment he was glad to be a mere second son with no responsibilities of wife or son. 

 

The Stark girl’s image flitted in his mind again. Her pretty pink dress torn and angry purple bruises forming on her delicate skin. He scrubbed his hand over his face and told himself to stop thinking about the little bird. She was safe, damnit. No one would touch the King’s betrothed now that she was safe within the castle walls. Yes, he convinced himself, the Imp would have at least posted a guard in front of her door. 

 

“What do you think Clegane?” Dran asked the Hound looked up, not having been paying attention to their conversation.

 

Caught off guard he asked, “What?”

 

“Do you think the rumors are true about the Tyrell family? You know, coming to King’s Landing?” Great,. when did the conversation turn to politics? “We thought you would know since you are always with the king.” Dran continued, his eyes hopeful.

 

“Aye, they will be here.” Sandor picked up his ale again and finished it. 

 

“I told you,” Dran smirked at Daris. The Hound looked around and was surprised to find the dining hall empty except for a maid. When the maid cleared the plates, she left the room and Dran leaned in again, “Do you think that will work? Do you think we should ask him?”

 

Daris flicked his eyes toward Sandor before speaking to his comrade, “Dran, we will talk about this later.”

 

“What do you think will work?” The hound demanded, sounding more annoyed than he actually was. 

 

Finally, the third man spoke to him, “Do not worry about it, it does not concern you.” 

 

“You brought it up around me, you clearly want my help with something.” He snapped at the man.

 

“I would not deny that truth, but the simple fact is that we cannot trust you with what we are discussing.” He reached over and slapped the back of Dran’s head. 

 

The Hound laughed, but it was a mirthless laugh, “Have you learned nothing from your lord? You lot shouldn’t trust anyone here.” 

 

He stood and started to leave the room when Dran called out to him, “Lord Stark liked you.”

 

“Then he was a fucking idiot.” Sandor spat and left the room. He needed to walk, get some air to get her out of his head. 

 

*******

 

“My Lady,” Lord Varys entered Sansa’s room after Shea opened the door as Sansa stood in the middle of her room, still trying not to cry uncontrollably. “Oh, you poor thing.” He crossed the room and took her hands in his soft ones, “Are you hurt?” she shook her head, “Good, good. Terrible thing, the King leaving you like that. I want you to know you still have friends here at court who would look after you.”

 

“Lord Varys?”  She remembered him running up to the king the day her father was murdered, remembered his pleadings to stop Joffrey from taking her father’s head. Why was he here?  _ It would mean war, your grace!  _ He told Joffrey. Since then, he would check on her every so often, just like Lord Baelish. 

 

“So polite. Your mother did teach you well. I’m not a lord in truth,” He patted her hand and frowned, and she felt something heavy and cold in her hand,  “You must understand that those people who look over you….”

 

“Look over me?” She pulled her hands from his, “My lord the only person who looked over me today was Sandor Clegane.” Varys bowed his head in agreement. “Why are you really here?”

 

‘To warn you. Joffrey is planning to take you to wife as soon as his name day.” Two months, “I tried to speak with your father often, but sadly he did not take my advice on a good deal. I wanted to offer my services to you as our future queen.”

 

“My father has been dead for months, why come to me now?”  She asked firmly still feeling the tears welling up in her eyes.

 

“Because, my lady, you show more promise of surviving than your father did.” Sansa closed her eyes trying to reign in her shock. She needed to think, needed to clear her head. “I understand this is an inopportune time, but Lord Baelish is right. Chaos  _ is  _ a ladder my lady, and you should be climbing it.” 

 

“What do you want from me?” Sansa asked him. 

 

Lord Varys flicked his eyes toward her maid, who was busily setting oils into her bath, “I’m afraid I have overstayed my welcome My Lady, and I fear the King will be calling upon me soon. Please be well,” Lord Varys gripped her hands in his soft ones again and turned to leave. 

 

He was at the door when Sansa called out to him, “Lord Varys, wait,” he turned with his eyebrow raised, “Could you see that Clegane is rewarded? He saved my life.” 

 

“My lady, a lot of knights saved ladies today.” 

 

“The Hound is not a knight. And I am the King’s betrothed. Please see that he is rewarded, you have the king’s ear.” He bowed and took his leave. 

 

“Do not trust him, my lady,” Shea said from behind her. “He wants something from you.”

 

Sansa looked down at her hand and saw her father’s Direwolf Sigil pin. How had Varys gotten it? Did he mean it as a token of trust? “Every man wants something from me. At least the Spider does not want my body, lands or title.”  

**-**

Sansa dismissed Shea for the evening. After a bath and fresh clothes, she felt much better. The simple act of dressing herself gave her comfort. More control. She could feel the bruises on her body starting to form. Her wrists and ankles, her cheek and back all ached from the pain of her attack, but she would heal and would be alive thanks to The Hound. When she was bathing she had decided that she needed to thank Clegane for saving her. If it weren't for him she would likely be dead and violated at best. 

 

She brushed and plaited her hair, her mind turning to the Spider. If Varys’s rumors were to be believed, Joffrey had meant to leave her to the mob. But then why marry her in as little as two months? She was sure he only meant to keep her around to torment her then be rid of her when he tired of her. Did he think to end the rebellion in the North by this marriage? Surely, Joffrey must have understood that would only insight more fighting between the Lannisters and the Starks.

 

Sansa slipped on an old worn dress and carefully wrapped the meat she was able to save from her evening meal with some bread, intent on giving it to the Hound. The soldiers didn’t eat as well as she did, and a man as large as the Hound should eat his fill. She stepped out of her room and into the dim corridors, trying to remember the way to the barracks. Most of the castle was asleep or cooing over how brave the king was to face that terrifying mob. Sansa didn't dare go near the King for fear the vitriol she was sure would come out of her mouth; Joffrey would cut her head off and put on the same spike as her father's. Then she wouldn’t be of any use to her brother and Jamie Lannister would die, and then the war would only worsen. 

 

She shook the thoughts of her father and brother from her head. Instead, she filled them with thoughts of her little sister. Arya wouldn’t have let Joffrey beat her, she wouldn't have let those men get close enough to rip any of her clothes off. She missed her sister, Sansa realized with a sudden pang. She wished they hadn’t argued over stupid things and wished they had played more. Arya would seek out the best fighter in the castle and demand to be trained, she would understand that femininity would not be enough for her to survive here. Sansa wasn’t a fighter like her sister, no, she was better with her mind and she had her healing gift, but the knowledge of how to use a dagger couldn’t hurt. Not here.  

 

Glancing behind her shoulder, she made sure no one was following her. She didn’t want any spies to see her or know of her meeting with the Hound lest more rumors spread where there was nothing. She ran directly into a wall. A wall that rattled like chainmail and creaked like boiled leather. 

 

Sandor instinctively reached down and steaded the women that had run into him. He looked down and saw a shock of red hair falling loose from a plait framing a pale bruised face. Pale blue eyes stared into him again, “Little bird,” He rumbled in realization. What the hell was she doing out of her cage? He was glad to see her, glad to see she wasn’t wasting away in bed crying herself to a dreamless sleep. He mentally shook himself, he shouldn’t be worried for her, shouldn’t want to check her bruises and make sure she had something for the pain. It wasn’t his place. _And yet you were going to check on her_ , some part of his brain snarled at him. She should be safely ensconced doing some sort of frippery or in bed asleep? Wasn’t he trying to get her out of his head? His grip on her arms tightened, “What are you doing out of your cage?”

 

“Looking for you, Ser.” She said softly and honestly. 

 

“Why would you search out a dog?” He snarled at her, angry at her for being out of her rooms.

 

“I wanted to give you something, and to thank you….for saving me.” She continued. “You were so brave.” 

 

“Brave? A Dog doesn’t need courage to chase off rats. What do you want?” He asked her. His raspy voice covering her body giving her goosebumps. Sansa held her breath at the unexpected sensation.  

 

Then she narrowed her eyes, upset at him for attempting to deflect her simple compliment, “Does it give you joy to scare people?” Why did the man have to be so coarse?

 

“No, it gives me joy to  _ kill  _ people.” Her eyes widened at his statement, “Spare me. You can’t tell me Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell never killed a man.”

 

“It was his duty, he never  _ liked _ it.” She argued upset with him for being rude to her, clutching the wrapped meal in her hands.

 

“Is that what he told you?  **He lied** . Killing is the sweetest thing there is.”

 

“Why are you always so hateful?”  Sansa glared up at him, refusing to be intimidated by him.

 

“You’ll be glad of the hateful things I do someday when you’re queen when I am the only thing that stands between you and your  **_beloved_ ** king.” He was right, Sansa thought if she ever intended on being Joffrey's queen. She felt him loosen his grip on her arms ever so slightly but not releasing her. He had done this so many times when he was drunk Sansa half expected a threat to come bursting from his mouth to kill her.

 

Sandor frowned when she only glared at him, she should be running away, should take her pretty little head out of the castle halls and put it on a pillow away from him and any other roaming man this late at night.  “What did you want to give me, since you’re still here and not running back to your buggering cage.” 

 

“I… today… I.”

 

“Out with it girl.” He demanded.

 

“Erm...here. It’s not much but I know the King doesn’t feed you properly.” She shoved the wrapped meat and bread at him angry that he would still treat her like this when she was being nice to him. “Would that I could give you more Ser,” she added despite herself after all Sansa was still a lady and never forgot his courtesies. 

 

Sandor took the wrapped meal from her, inhaling the scent of well-cooked meat and brown bread. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he’d forgone the stew that had been his dinner. Her eyes flicked to the sound, “Please eat.” She said to him. Without ceremony, he unwrapped it and glanced back up at her. It wasn’t a lot but leagues better than what he was used to. Grunting his thanks he ate, all the while wondering why she would really give him half her meal if not more. She apparently was waiting for him to have his mouth full before asking, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.” She said in her small voice. 

 

“What?” he said softer than he’d intended, finishing the meager portion.

 

“Could... could you teach me how to defend myself? With a sword, a dagger...anything?” She gently touched his forearm, “Please?”

 

Sandor stared down at her in shock, “Why the fuck do you want that?” 

 

“If you hadn’t been there…”

 

“I was.” He cut her off.

 

“Please, Ser.”

 

“I am not a Ser.” He growled at her. That usually cowed women into running, but not Sansa. It had  _ never  _ worked on Sansa. Nothing he ever did cow her into being scared of him, not since he told her to take her look at his burned face. She’d tried to touch him all those years ago, something he half regretted stopping every day.  But then she’d asked him a question, simply looking passed his scar and spoke with him like he was a regular fucking person and he hated how it made him feel. He wished she  _ was _ scared of him like all the other ladies, like all the other men. It would be easy for him to hate her. She was pretty and a perfect lady, that alone was more than enough for him to hate her. But she really wasn’t like the other ladies prancing about the castle. 

 

She glared at him now, matching her frosty blue eyes to his gray ones.  “Joffrey  _ will _ hurt me again.” She said in a level tone. _ And force me into so much more _ , she thought.

 

“Aye, he will, because you cause him pain. You remind him that he is not the most powerful man in the world. You remind him of the dangers that live in the North.”  

 

“Then give me a way to defend myself.” She argued, her voice going a little higher. The Hound scowled at her; she was making him feel  _ things _ ,  _ things  _ he hadn’t felt in nearly twenty years. He ruthlessly shoved them down. 

 

“You want to raise a sword to the king?” He sneered at her. She lowered her eyes. Perhaps it was foolish, she knew, but she still wanted the knowledge, “Your father never taught you anything? Never let you hold a bow? Never let you hold a dagger?” He heard the sounds of footfall several halls over and instinctively guided her against the wall of the hall. She went willingly, never once shuddering under his touch.

 

“My mother said a woman's skin is too soft to hold a weapon. She said that if a woman is to do work then it is to learn the healing crafts.” she glanced down at her own usually manicured hands, her nails torn from today's earlier attack. 

 

“Your mother was right.” Sandor leaned against the wall. 

 

Her head snapped back up looking at him once again. “I know the healing craft ser, and not once has it protected me. My mother was protected in Winterfell by my Father.” 

 

“The king's guard will protect you.”

 

“The Guard beats me.  _ You know that _ . You were there that day on the ramparts with Trant.” She glared up at him. She still had the white linen he’d given her that day. His gaze fixed on the thin scar that ran up her bottom lip. He’d beat Trant down in the training yard the next day after he’d done that to his little bird, breaking his arm in three different spots with a morningstar. 

 

“You have people here who will protect you.”

 

“Who? My maids? They run when they see Joffrey, they won't protect me. Robb? He is at war and the reason I receive the beatings. Bran and Rickon? They are boys. My bastard half brother on the wall? The few guards remaining here that came with my father? They would lose their heads. No one can protect me, no one can protect anyone!” 

 

Sandor moved so swiftly she hardly saw it, faster than a man of his size had a right to move. Both of his hands were on either side of her head against the wall and his face was inches from hers, “Then **I** will protect you.” He growled, hating how he noticed her stature, her lavender smell, her curves, the rapid rise and fall of her beast. She was tall for a woman but still tiny compared to him, the top of her head reaching only his chest. Gods he wanted her, wanted to pin her against that wall and shove himself inside of her. He restrained himself, knowing it would damage the little trust she had in him and the tiny friendship that was struggling to bloom.

 

His breath smelled of wine and the meal she’d given him, but she didn’t flinch, finding it far more pleasant than the memory of rotting teeth and breath. Instead, she moved forward closer to his burned face, “What happens when you cannot?” She asked, lowering her voice, “What happened when he orders  _ you  _ to beat me? You’re Joffrey's dog, not mine.”  It was the first time she had ever called him a dog, and anger rose up in him. He didn’t mind being called a dog by Joffrey, even by the queen... but not the little bird. Then she said softly, “I don’t think I could bare that ser, I think my heart would shatter if  **you** hit me.” She whispered.  Her attitude toward him had shifted significantly when he’d swept her away from her father's murder three moons ago. Since she had seen the kind worry behind the hate. She refused to think she had imagined it. 

 

Sandor’s eyes flicked to her mouth, unable to deny the heat rising between them; her full lips weren't trembling. She was serious, she wanted to learn from him. This small woman who had been in tears in his arms just hours earlier wanted the knowledge that she knew only he could give her. Only he _would_ give her. “Is that so, Little Bird?” He ground out. “My answer is still no.”

 

“I don’t want to be helpless anymore.”

 

“Women have more wits than men and that’s not yer only weapon,” he said roughly.

 

“A sword does more damage.” She snapped back. Her femininity would only get her so far in this court even he knew that. He shook his head. No, this wasn’t a good idea. It would NEVER be a good idea. 

 

“No.” 

 

Sansa’s mind churned; she knew convincing him would be difficult but did not know it would be this hard. Could he not see the danger she was in? He’d saved her from Joffrey's hate at least a dozen times and from Trant many more. Why could he not see that this was the best way he could protect her? She wanted to stomp her foot and order him to give her what she wanted, but that would only prove his point. 

 

Cersei had told her often enough that women could bring men to their knees without ever picking up a dagger. Of course, the Dowager Queen had followed that statement with the fact that those tactics would never work on the King. But they did, and Sansa knew she had a knack for it. Would the Hound fall before her as well? As Joffrey did when he finished in her mouth? She knew her femininity would only be useful for so long until the king tired of it and demanded more. Sansa knew she couldn’t attack the king, but she could attack other would be rapists. Her courtly seductions would mean nothing if she was being attacked but a weapon would. 

 

She knew the Hound followed her with his eyes every time she entered a room, she’d started placing herself in his protective gaze when she felt unsafe, the closer she got to him the better she felt. He wouldn’t believe any of, he wouldn't believe that he was her only friend here. She decided to capitalize on it, since asking nicely wasn’t working maybe her other weapon would. 

 

She looked up at the Hound, “I will make you a deal then, Hound.” He raised his one good eyebrow at her.

 

“What could you possibly have that I could want?” Now he felt she was just toying with him.

 

“If you agree to train me, for every lesson you give I will give you a kiss.” She said, heat rising in her cheeks, suddenly wondering what his twisted lips would feel like against hers. 

 

The Hound simply blinked at her. A kiss? He shoved off the wall. Surely she was joking, the King would come around the corner any minute and use it as an excuse to execute him. He glared at her. “I’m a Dog, remember.” He snapped at her. She reached up and placed her hand on his arm, but he shook it off of him. “Do not fuck with me.” 

 

“I’m not.” She said softly.

 

“Is it so much of a task to kiss a Dog you would use it as a bargaining chip to get what you want?”

 

“No!” She protested. “I know you want to Ser, I know you’ve wanted to for a long time.” She knew he did, just like every man had wanted to when she started to grow into her womanly curves. She’d been protected by her father when she was growing, but now she suspected she had another to thank for her continued purity at the Red Keep. He’d always been there for her, always nice in his own way, teaching her the true ways of the capitol. She imagined his kisses would either be sloppy or tender- barely even a whisper on her lips. But she wanted her curiosity satisfied and he would get something no one else had gotten from her. _Willingness_. 

 

“You don’t have the stomach to kiss someone as ugly as me. Go on back to your chambers Little Bird.” The Hound snarled at her, returning to his original position of only a few inches in front of her face. “Go back and dream of your pretty knights and perfect husband in a buggering castle. Leave!” Every woman he had ever had an intimate relationship with would barely kiss him. Even whores turn their faces when he tried. Why would she offer to kiss him when not even the women he paid would do it? 

 

Sansa could feel the heat rolling from his body. Could the thought of her kiss really upset him so? She returned his icy glare. She reached up and wrapped her hands around his thick neck and before he could protest she pressed her lips to his. Languid heat curled through her body, curling in on itself. Instinct telling her something she couldn’t grasp, she wanted to be closer to him and as far away from him as possible at the same time. She wanted him to take the choice away from her, wanted him to … she didn’t know but she just wanted it. 

 

His nostrils filled with her scent, her lips unbearably soft and willing against his. His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back gently so he could deepen the kiss. She was right - he’d wanted to kiss her for a long time, wanted to be between her legs. Sansa made a small noise in the back of her throat and didn’t shove him away, her fingers curled into his hair, scratching his scalp with her fingernails and pulled him closer to her.  _ This was not a good idea. _ She broke the kiss suddenly and tried to step back, but he kept his arms firmly locked around her. He wanted to keep going, wanted to hear that sweet little moan from her again. 

 

She’d actually kissed him. He only stupidly blinked at her. In his long seven and twenty years, he had never had a woman actually want to kiss him, never like that. Never with the heat of want behind it. No, it was only chaste passionless kisses done for coin. Could she actually want this that badly? Was she not repulsed by the twisted side of his lips or the missing chunks of hair that would never grow? Even the bone that showed through on his jaw? 

 

The Hound pushed the thoughts away. His brain screamed at him  _ “THIS IS NOT A GOOD IDEA!”  _  He glared at the girl. She held her small frame tight and tense; he knew that she wanted her answer now. He knew she wanted to be trained to protect herself, and honestly.. would that really be so bad? A woman as pretty as she should know how to at least hold a dagger. He glanced at her skinny arms and knew she would stop after only three … maybe four lessons. She was a lady and not used to physically demanding work. He might as well take advantage of her while he could. “Where girl?” he said finally releasing her.

 

“Where what?” She asked, confused at his question, her fingers pressing against her lips.

 

“Where do you want to be trained?” he asked irritated.

 

“Oh...in the Godswood.” 


	3. Sword Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets her first lesson

Sansa didn’t know how she got back to her chambers undetected. For the millionth time, she pressed her fingers to her lips; her kiss wasn't supposed to affect **her;**  only him. She was supposed to be using his desire for her against him to get what she wanted, so what was this _feeling_ welling up inside of her? She wasn’t supposed to have feelings, feelings would only get herself killed.

 

Maybe it was because she had never kissed a man like Sandor. The memory of his twisted lips pressed against hers sent her head spinning and heat rolling from her body. She sat down on the edge of the bed and removed her slippers. She needed to get some sleep.

 

Yes, she decided she needed some sleep and tomorrow she would think of that kiss as a lesson in duty, not in passion.

 

****

 

Sandor all but ran back to his chambers. What the bloody hell was he thinking agreeing to train the Stark girl? He felt the soft pressure of her lips against his, scrubbing his hand down his face. It was more than he ever imagined; her body pressed to him twice in one day. His mind replayed her soft body against his over and over. Was he _that_ desperate? “Fuck.” He growled and he bolted the door and stripped his armor off.

 

He needed cold water before his erection became painful. He found some and splashed the water on his face. It didn’t help. His brain played her fingers digging into his shoulders her shocked little moan when he pulled her close to him in his mind again and again until he reached down and gripped himself.

 

He slid his hand up and down his long shaft, running his thumb over the exposed head, spreading his moisture down his length. Her smell; lavender and honey, her lips and the breathy sigh the moment she broke from his lips and her damn blue eyes filled with want for just seconds, her gaze holding him for as long as he held her. She didn’t fight him to be released. He filled his mind with images of her naked, on her back, thighs spread wide for him with that fucking _come-hither_ look on her face. He imagined taking her, putting her soft moans to the movements in his head. When he finished, he cursed himself again for agreeing to train her. He’d have a sore cock and hand for weeks if it kept up like this.

 

***

 

The next day Sansa confined herself to her room and the halls around it. More than once she saw Sandor passing her door and more than once she wanted to call out to him. She hoped he lurked there to make sure she was safe. She would like that. Sandor seeing to her comfort. She finally gave in to that impulse the evening of self-induced seclusion. Much to her maids' irritation, she called out as she saw him once more. “I beg pardon ser,” Sansa called out as he passed her hall.

 

Hesitantly, he turned to face her and she quickly crossed the hall while no one else lurked there and handed him half her meat pie. “The day after tomorrow, my lord.”

 

“Not a lord.” he snapped quietly at her as she pressed the hot pie into his hands. His stomach rumbled after not eating for the entire day of watching her. She frowned up at him and his coarseness, she crossed her arms under her breast and pursed her lips at him

 

He couldn’t say what had driven him to constantly stalk the hall in front of her door, maybe it was the memory of the previous night or the feeling of her soft hands pressing nourishment into his own scarred hands. “Don’t chirp at me girl, you know where it gets you.” She should have flinched at the vulgarity of his words instead stared up at him with her fucking blue eyes, irritation clearly showing through the pale blue orbs. Finally, he sighed. “After dark girl.” She’d nodded and slipped back into her rooms.

 

\---

 

The next morning, Lord Varys came to her again and had asked her to take a turn around the gardens with him. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the summer sun on her face, knowing it would make her freckles more prominent and not caring. “The sun agrees with you, my lady.”

 

“Thank you Lord Varys, but Winter is coming.”

 

“So you Starks keep reminding us. You are a good deal like your father, placing far to much value in honor.”

 

“You have honor, my Lord.” she protested, “I heard what you said to Joffrey the day my father died. Thank you.”

 

“I admit I admired him a good deal.”

 

“What do you want from me?”

 

“I want the same thing from you that I want from everyone. I want you to serve the realm.”

 

Sansa stopped and clasped her hands in front of her, “And how would you have me do that, my lord?”

 

“Marry Joffrey.” He said plainly.

 

Sansa remained silent for many long moments as they slowly continued walking through the roses of the garden “My Lord, you would have me wed him in the next two months? He is only four and ten now, and will be ten and five in two moons.”

 

“The Targaryens often married young and...”

 

“Joffrey is not a Targaryen. And neither am I.”

 

“What do you know about the dragons, my lady?”

 

“Of their history? A good deal, my lord.” She evaded the question, “Of Viserys and Daenerys? Not much, only rumors that filter through the court. As you know my family’s history is irrevocably entwined with their older brother, Rhaegar.”

 

“They say she has three dragons.”

 

“They also say Tywin Lannister passes gold in his chamber pot. There are no more dragons my lord.”

 

“Joffrey seems to think so.” Sansa stayed silent after the statement, but Varys continued. “If the Targaryens did come back to Westeros, what would you do my lady?”

 

Sansa glanced over at the eunuch, wondering what would make him ask such a question, “If we are going to play the question game, my lord, then you must go first.”

 

“Baelish is teaching you well. Very well.” He looked out ahead of them, where the queen’s garden seemed to go on forever in the lush bounty of flowers and exotic greenery. “I would side with the rightful ruler, the one that best serves the realm. And you?”

 

“Direwolves have only ever bent the knee to Dragons my lord.”

 

“Your father bent the knee to a stag.” he reminded her.

 

“And now, my father is dead.” She replied curtly and took her leave of him.

 

*****

 

When the evening she would start her lessons came, she’d not managed to steal some britches or a shirt, despite her best efforts.

 

She walked through the castle, sticking to halls that she knew would be deserted at this time of night. She wondered if Sandor would even be there. It wasn’t like their last conversation had gone over well. She gave herself an unladylike snort; she wouldn't be surprised if he didn’t show. But when she strode into the Godswood with her plain brown dress on, she was surprised that he _was_ actually there.

 

“You plan on fighting in a dress girl?” He rasped at her.

 

“It’s not like I can simply request britches and a shirt.” She snapped at him not at all happy the way he had treated her in the hallway but still secretly pleased to see him.

 

“You can’t fight in a dress,” he said flatly.

 

“I’m likely to need to use this information when I am in a skirt.” She countered. Sandor only grunted in reply and Sansa took a moment to take in his form. He stood there in his v-necked tunic and plain britches. She could see the dark curls that smattered his chest; she knew it would go below the shirt and travel down his torso. She wasn't sure how he managed to look bigger without his customary black leather, but he did. She felt a chill sweep up her body it made her feel hot and cold at the same time, that same instinct from earlier urging her to move forward, to be close to him. She ruthlessly shoved it down. She could see he was busying himself with two wooden swords, one much smaller than the other.

 

“Let me see you hold it.” he handed her the smaller of the two and she took it, holding it with a death grip and keeping her arm rigid. That's how her brothers looked when they held it.  “Lose your grip,” he instructed her. When she released her grip a little it slipped from hands. She bent down and scooped it up again.

 

Sandor sighed and stepped behind her and reached for her wrist, just barely touching her arm. “It’s an extension of your arm, not a weapon. Not yet.” He said softly against her ear, making her suppress a shiver. His calloused hand gently grasped her wrist and Sansa relaxed her grip. She felt his breath against her ear and inhaled sharply, his scent of leather, soap, and cedar filled her, and she could feel the heat coming off of him and instinctively leaned back toward him.

 

Sandor stepped closer, his chest nearly touching her back, and he looked over her mass of red curls and adjusted her elbow. “Keep your arm loose.” He slid his hand to the generous swell of her hips, shifting her into the proper stance against him.

 

Sansa felt the heat of his hands through her thin dress and barely noticed he lingered there longer than necessary, especially when she felt him against her bottom. She wanted to lean her head back and rest against his chest, wanted to rub her thighs together, wanted his hands…

 

She abruptly refocused her attention to her sword. She was here for training; not for _anything_ else. _Where had those thoughts come from?_ She berated herself.

 

“Keep your feet apart.” He said, oblivious to her internal conflict. “I’m going to show you how to thrust and slash. Just let me lead and you follow.” He gripped her wrist and pulled her arm back, in a fluid motion he showed her how to keep her arm loose enough not to get the sword stuck in an enemy and how to slash effectively against an opponent.

She wouldn't be cutting men in half, but then again she wouldn't need to.

 

From behind her, Sandor smirked; he didn’t know if she was consciously leaning into him but he would take it. The Little Bird picked on the lesson fast, saying it was much like a needle; hold it too tight and your stitches are wrong and crooked.

 

“Alright now, try to hit me.” He said as he released her and walked in front of her.

 

Sansa felt his warmth leave her back as well as a sense of security. Her eyes widened in confusion, “What?”

 

“You heard me, hit me.”

 

She attempted to swing at him and he easily blocked it. He could tell she was hesitant. He gave her small instructions each time, sometimes it was on the way her feet were standing, and sometimes how she held the sword. He even showed her to use her small body to get past a larger foe. They practiced this way for several hours, and she complained...a lot.

 

“Can we _please_ take a break, my arms are burning.”

 

“This is the training, Girl.” Sandor would snap at her for every complaint. He guided her through the basics of parry and fought the urge to grin when she got it right and blocked one of his blows. She smiled at him, panting hard and sweat staining her bodice.

“You know this won't work in a real battle. Only as a last defense.”  He reminded her, then added, “When I am not there to protect you.” he needed her to understand this, and he needed her to know he wouldn’t let her half-ass this training.

 

She blocked his sword swing again with her own, sweat trickling down the sides of her face. He wasn’t even using a quarter of his strength against her, and he watched her wooden sword tremble against his. “I don’t want to go into battle, I want to know how to stop a man when he is attacking me.” She said, using what little strength she had left to shove his sword off of hers, and he let her.

 

“We are done with the swords for this eve,” Sandor dropped the sword to the green grass, and

 

Sansa quickly dropped hers as well and wiped her forehead, “I don’t think I have ever sweat this much in my life.” Sandor actually smiled at that, then hid it. He wasn't supposed to be enjoying this part.

 

“Stand in front of me.” He gestured, and she frowned but did. “What you want to learn Little Bird no knight should know. Fighting isn’t followed by pretty rules, it’s dirty. That’s what I am going to teach you next.”

 

“Dirty fighting?”

 

“Aye, it all starts with footwork.” He showed her how to ground and brace herself, and showed the most effective way to kick and punch a man. “Every fight can be won with footwork and dirty fighting.” He told her. “If your enemy is down, kick him.” He gave a feral smile and Sansa noticed for the first time that he was missing a tooth behind his canine, but the lopsided grin made her smile back.

 

“How do I attack a man from behind?” She asked.

 

“Thought you said this was simply to protect yourself, not backstab them.” She opened her mouth to give a reason when he interrupted, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger painfully, “What did I tell you about this training?” He couldn't have her thinking fighting was easy, even if desired. She needed to understand this was well and truly a **last resort** for her, _not_ the first.

 

“I won’t survive a battle, this is only for emergencies, when you're not there.” She repeated back to him in a whisper, and his scent overwhelming her.

 

“Good. Wear your hair up for next time.” He said releasing her from his grasp.

 

“I wish I could cut it.” She said when she got some semblance of her mind back in working order.

 

“No.” Sandor snapped faster than he intended to and she looked at him confused. “It would let them know that you are up to something.”

 

“You mean aside from my aching arms?” She flashed him another smile, making Sandor feel like he had just walked into a wall. He hid his breathlessness under a scowl.

 

“Fake it, girl.”

 

“I will see you the day after next.” She nodded and turned to leave.

 

He reached for her, wanting what he was owed, but he paused, knowing if he did it might scare her. He pulled back and visibly put his thoughts into words; “Girl… you owe me.” Sansa hesitated for a moment before turning back to him, “This was your idea.”

 

Sansa knew this was part of her plan. All men liked women who played hard to get. But with him, she felt like the line between patience and his control snapping was thin, especially with her. Something about him kept drawing her. Maybe it was the control he had on his rage or maybe it was the rage itself that drew her, part of her wanting to sooth it and see the man under it. Some small part of her whispered how exciting his loss of control might be, she shoved the thoughts away almost as quickly as they had appeared.

 

She stood up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his lips, thinking to give him a chaste kiss, reminding herself that she was here for only one reason. But when she started to pull away Sandor slipped his arms around her, bringing her flush with his body. She gave a small squeak of surprise and she tasted the wine and bread on his lips he’d had with his dinner. His hands started to trace up her spine, making her arch closer to him. His heavily muscled arms trapping her in the provocative position.  

 

She shoved down her inexplicable desire to wrap her arms around him and give an utterly wanton moan. She didn’t understand why he elicited this reaction from her and wanted to hate it. She wanted the feeling to go away because it would make her weak and exposed to him. She wanted the control back, not this feeling she was left with her weak knees and tingling body.

 

She tasted like warm honey, Sandor thought as he pressed her soft lips to his. Sandor wanted to slip his hand into her hair again and pull her head back, exposing her neck. He wanted to nibble the pale column until she panted and whined his name until she begged him to meet her need. But he kept his lips on hers; that would have to be for another time. He released her at last and set her back. Instead of stepping back as he expected, she clung to him, manicured nails digging into his shoulders, eyes dilated and dazed.

 

“Get back to your rooms now, Little Bird.” Sandor gave her another feral smile and it sent a shiver down her spine. Sansa stepped back, almost falling to the ground before turning and racing to her rooms, only barely remembering to stick to the shadows. She was grateful for the late hour so no servants would see her.  

 

Once she finally made it back to her quarters, Sansa gently closed the door and slid against it. What had just happened? Why did she like it? She tried to turn her thoughts to the training, but all she could think about was his warm arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her to his chest.

 

She had wanted to rake her fingers across that chest and down his back. Why where such thoughts pestering her like some common whore, she shouldn’t want this, she shouldn’t his kiss any more than she wanted Joffrey’s. But she did, she wanted him to keep going and didn’t know how to stop the feeling surrounding her and her body.

 

She snapped herself out of her imagination; she couldn't afford to fall in lust with the Hound. She was already taking a big enough chance of being seen with him by someone. The kisses were supposed to be a lesson in duty, not lust. But as her lips tingled with the memory his cruel mouth on hers, and she knew somewhere in the back of her mind was failing miserably. Rubbing her thighs together she fought the ache that grew between them, but the friction only seemed to make it worse. Giving up she stood up and bolted the door then fell to her bed, her hands tracing to her woman’s place to ease some of the desire he created within her.

 

Her mind could focus on nothing but his hard chest, raspy voice, and twisted lips and when she came, she bit her blanket to stifle her moan.

 

It wasn’t enough, it was never enough.

 

***

Sandor walked through the silent halls of the barracks, thinking about Sansa. Always about Sansa fucking Stark. She picked up quickly on what he was teaching her but he didn’t like how slow she was with the sword, and he wondered if it was to heavy for her. _Good_ , he thought to himself. If the sword was too heavy then she would give up quickly and he wouldn’t have to deal with her ridiculous complaining. But then again.. he would have to give up her kisses too, as well as have to give up the way she pressed herself to him, even unconsciously. He would have to give up the start of that pretty little song she gave every time he touched her.  

 

He entered his room and dropped the swords against the wall, not bothering to change before he flopped on his messy bed. _Buggering hells,_ he had morning duty in a few hours.

 

He couldn’t sleep until he took himself in hand and replayed her lips against his again. He fancied she was willing to follow him down the dark path of his particular seduction. Giving in to it, he played his darkest fantasies about his little bird. The ones where he bound her to his bed and made her scream his name for hours on end, made her thighs quake with the power of her completion then thanked him for making her scream and begged him for more.


	4. The Sworn Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shifts in responsibility and a new dilemma show up on Sandor's and Sansa's doorstep.

Sandor stifled a yawn as he stood in the shadows behind the King. He’d not wanted to wake from the oddly domestic dream he’d been having of his obsession. Now he simply refused to dwell on the dream knowing that she would never be his. 

 

Sansa had been summoned to join the King for breakfast. Joffrey was in one of his normal foul tempers, this morning being no different than any other. Sandor was tired and in no mood to deal with the boy child while a veritable feast was laid out in front of the King, food that could have fed many families. When his little bird had walked into the room she looked radiant, no hint of sleep deprivation was about her. He glared at her; how could she not be exhausted? Her pale yellow dress hugged her a little too tightly, pushing her full breasts up and accentuating her hips. She flashed him a quick secret but innocent smile. He scowled at her and knew she saw it. What game was she playing at? When she sat, Joffrey spoke, “Did you sleep well, my Lady?”

 

“Yes your Grace, thank you for asking.” She inquired about his evening, and he said he had spent it pleasantly enough though something was bothering him. She assured him that he could speak with her, as she would always listen. 

 

“Mother says as soon as your traitor brother is put down like the dog he is then we can finally marry.”  He leaned back on his golden chair, “But that might take too long I think...I want you on your back sooner than that, I need to secure the throne as soon as possible.”

 

He watched her flinch before speaking; “I am counting the days Your Grace, but forgive me,...I thought you had to wait until you were ten and six.” She answered softly. 

 

“I am king and can marry when I want. Will you not be happy for our union?” Joffrey asked her, wanting to pick a fight with the Stark girl.

 

“Yes,” She cleared her throat, “Forgive me, I am simply a woman and cannot help loving my brother. I’m just a stupid girl and cannot comprehend the betrayal he has dealt you. I will be so happy when we marry.” 

 

Joffrey looked her over and Sandor tensed; he had something in mind to torture the young woman he was sure of that. But Sansa kept her body relaxed, not giving any hint of her discomfort. Slightly abated; Joffrey popped a grape in his mouth and chewed methodically, “I heard a disturbing rumor lately My Lady.”

 

“Your Grace?” She asked as she nibbled on some blackberries, her rosy lips gently sucking the juice from the berry. Sandor stared at her, not bothering to hide the heat in his eyes when her’s flickered up to meet his. He swore she deliberately let the juice of the berry drip along her thumb so she could suck it off the digit in front of him. He noticed how Joffrey shifted then crossed his legs and wanted to laugh; what would the boy king think about his lady love moaning for his guard dog. 

 

“Yes, they say your brother turns into a wolf and eats Lannister soldiers,” Joffrey said after clearing his throat. 

 

“Turns into a wolf? Who told you such a thing Your Grace, I fear he was teasing you.”

 

Joffrey frowned, “I doubt Littlefinger would have any reason to lie to me,” he leaned forward and grabbed her hands in his, “You, on the other hand, have plenty of reason.” Sandor watched as the king began squeezing her delicate fingers under his own. Despite the age difference between the two of them, Joffrey was as strong as his Lannister father and Sansa as delicate as her Tully mother. 

 

“Your grace knows I don’t lie to you.”  She said softly trying to appease him. Joffrey continued to squeeze her hands, “My Love, please…” She tried to tug her hands away.  “I have never lied to you.” She whispered.

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“Please stop!” 

 

“Tell me true Stark, can your brothers turn into wolves?”

 

“No! I certainly cannot and I have never seen that in my life!” Fear laced her words, Sandor took a step forward, his instinct to protect this woman pushing back his tired and replacing it with anger. Joffrey released her hands abruptly, whether it was due to his guard shifting or not, Sandor couldn’t tell. He berated himself for moving without thinking then to protect someone who was not his charge. 

 

“I believe you.”

 

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Sansa said, rubbing her red fingers together. 

 

“In fact, I think I want to give you a present; for your loyalty to the crown you see.”  He gave a deranged smile and Sansa’s eyes widened in fear. “The last loyal Stark.” 

 

“Your Grace?” She asked, fear again flickering through her eyes. Sansa stole a glance at Sandor as he took a silent step back giving her a slight nod, urging her to play this stupid game with Joffrey. She steeled her nerves and refocused her attention on the King, feeling better for having The Hound present and in the room.

 

“When you came here you lost a pet, what was its name again?”

 

“Lady. Your Grace.” She said looking down at the fruit on her plate trying and failing to hide her wince, Sandor could see her visibly trying to stop the emotions from welling up on her face, desperate to not give the brat King any more fodder. 

 

“Ahh yes, the one your stupid sister used to attack me.” He smiled.

 

“That wasn’t Lady.” Sansa leveled a glare on the King. Sandor knew she still blamed Joffery for the loss of her precious wolf as Lady had paid the price for her sister's stupidity. Sandor remembered that night. After he had ridden down the butcher's boy, he had come back to the camp, Ned Stark asking him why.  _ He ran, not very fast _ ; was his only answer to the honorable man. He’d heard Robert and Ned arguing about the wolf, knew when Ned lost the argument to the Queen. 

 

Sandor had put himself in Ned’s path silently, walking with him to the wolf. Sandor had crouched and the wolf had eyed him warily. Silently the larger man had held his hand out for the blade,  _ “I’ll do it.”  _ He’d said. “ _ Your girl can hate me instead _ .” Ned had shaken his head and gave him some speech about honor. After, he’d helped Ned with the wolf’s body and the two men had never spoken about it again. But Ned had asked him to escort his daughters about the Keep, particularly Sansa, as she grew into her womanhood.

 

“Whatever,” Joffrey waved his hand in the air pulling Sandor from the less than pleasant memory bringing him back to the present, “Your name day is soon isn’t it?” She nodded, “My father said to get you a Dog, that you would be happier for it. Would you be?” 

 

It wouldn't be wise to refuse the king's present, but Sansa had no desire for a dead puppy to be placed in her lap. On the other hand, to refuse would mean another beating. She couldn’t go through that after the attack in the alleyway. “Yes, your grace, that would make very happy.” She pasted on a bright smile.

 

“Good. DOG!” Joffrey screamed. Sandor stepped forward, thinking he would order him to fetch something for him to give to Lady Sansa. “My Lady, I gift you my Dog. He is my most loyal servant and will protect you with his life. Won’t you Dog?” Sandor’s eyes went wide, matching Sansa’s own.

 

“Your Grace? Who will protect you?” she asked.

 

“I have many knights my Lady.” the king seemed to be enjoying her distress.

 

“None as brave as Ser Clegane.”

 

“He’s not a knight.” He narrowed his eyes, “Though he saved your pathetic hide during those riots. Gods know why when I ordered him back to the Red Keep.” Sansa shifted her gaze from the king’s to Sandor. She didn’t know he’d disobeyed an order for her and had likely gotten more than a chastisement. “You should be grateful for his services.”

 

“I am.” She said quietly to the man, then shifted her gaze back to the King, “But what about you?” 

 

“I am nearly a man of ten and five, I know how to swing a sword. But if it makes you feel better I will have his older brother, who's  _ actually  _ taken his vows as a knight and a Kingsguard. Dog, I release you as my sworn shield and order you to shield and protect my lady as your king.” Sansa wasn’t sure why he was doing this, and maybe it didn’t matter. Joffrey never did anything out of the kindness of his heart. “Go on Dog. Go on, kneel before her and swear your sword.” 

 

“Your Grace…” Sandor started.

 

“ **NOW** !” He screeched. Years of training forced Sandor to turn and walk around the table before drawing his sword and kneeling in front of her. Sansa stood up, not wanting him to do this but understanding neither of them had a choice in the matter. He placed the sword at her slippered feet as she clasped her hands in front of her.

 

Sandor searched his mind for the buggering words he had said all those years ago, “Lady Stark, I offer my services to you. I will shield your back and keep your council and give my life for yours if need be; I swear it by the old Gods and the new.” He stared at the ground, feeling the cold flagstone under his knee, and he could see her slippered feet in his vision. He could have throttled the King for making him vow something. He didn’t like promises, mistrusted them on principle. Vows were simply words meant to break the other person's soul, lies made out of shit honor. But this was Sansa,.. his little bird. Maybe now they could stop that ridicules training, he was after all her guard now or maybe the Little Bird would demand more from him now. 

 

Sansa knew the next words; they had been drilled into her by her Septa since she was a child, “And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old Gods and the New. Arise.” He grabbed his sword and stood up, sheathing it as his armor clinking as he shifted. Awkwardly he took his new place behind her before Sansa sat back down and Joffrey spoke again. 

 

“Since the bread riots, my council demanded you have a guard. Queensguard. Mother has one now too. Dog, you’ll get your new cloak later today.” Sandor didn't budge. Sansa’s mind was whirling. Could this be Varys’s doing? Assigning Sandor to her specifically? Was this supposed to be a reward? “They also insisted that I move your rooms since the incident this morning while you were walking the gardens. Because of that, I decided on giving you larger apartments with enough room to accommodate your shield. So he can  _ watch  _ you all hours of the day and night.” 

 

Sansa stilled. Share apartments with Sandor? He was not even her husband? She fidgeted, what was the king planning? Sandor Clegane in her rooms, watching her. Seven hells it was hard enough just being trained by him when his smell overrode even her basic intelligence and his hands made her want devious unladylike things. Sansa forced herself back to the present, “What incident, your grace?” She said, knitting her brows in confusion. 

 

Joffrey stood and moved to the other end of the table, “Bring him.” He called. The doors opened and The Mountain entered, bringing with him a small soldier. Sansa felt The Hound take a step closer to her and saw out of the corner of her eyes that his hand had gone to his sword. The Mountain shoved the smaller man forward. 

 

Sansa leaned forward to see who it was and caught her breath. It was Dran, one of her father's remaining soldiers that had somehow escaped the Stark massacre. He was beaten bloody and bruised, his right eye swollen shut and black.

 

“This man.” Joffrey pointed to him, “Was found trying to enter your rooms, Lady Stark.” Sansa turned her head toward Joffrey. That wasn’t a crime, especially if he didn’t take anything. “Tell her why.” He commanded the small soldier. 

 

“Please,” She said, hoping to ease Dran’s suffering, “Why would you enter my rooms?” 

 

“Tell her what you told Ser Gregor,” Joffrey demanded when the soldier remained silent.

 

“I was trying to take you home Sa...Lady Stark. Back to Winterfell. I only wanted you away from …” He looked at Joffrey, “King’s Landing. Too many dark wings.” He repeated the common northern term, the same her mother had said those many years ago when John Aryn had died. “Your Brother...he’s been in communication with me.” Gregor produced a scroll from his belt and tossed it at her. It fell to the table where she picked it up and swallowed before reading the missive, needing to know if it really was Robb. 

 

Sansa fought to keep her face impassive while she did so, “Ser, I wish you had spoken with me. My brother is a traitor to the crown and I am to wed the King, why would I go back to Winterfell?” She lied. Dran gave her a sympathetic look, knowing she was lying, knowing she had to to keep her head. 

 

“Is it your brother’s handwriting?” Joffrey asked her. 

 

“No your grace. It is my mother’s.” The note was short.  _ Theon betrayed us, my sons Bran and Rickon are hostages. Get my girls before Sansa marries that inbred creature. Get them back to Winterfell and kill the Greyjoy. _

 

“What does it say?”

 

Sansa looked up at the king, then back at the note, “She wishes for me to come home. She says there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Winter is coming.” She lied then added, rolling the scroll up and tucking it into her sleeve, “She insults your grace’s parentage.” In case he had read the missive already she did not want to add to his wroth. 

 

She could hear Joffrey giggling like a child behind her. “Ser Gregor, close the door.” The Mountain did as commanded, “Leave him there.” He said and his new shield came to stand behind the young king. Joffrey cleared his throat again and Sansa turned to face him.

 

“What will you do with him, your grace?” She asked softly.

 

“You want your lady released?” Joffrey asked the Northern soldier Dran nodded. “Go ahead, grab her and take her. My shield won't stop you.” He said completely ignoring Sansa. 

 

“Your Grace…” Sansa started to speak. 

 

“You don’t want to go, do you?” Joffrey asked.

 

“No- but your Grace maybe the wall would be the best punishment...” She tried again. 

 

“Silence!” Joffrey shouted, his face red and spittle shot from his mouth, then turned back to the northerner, “Go on... take her.” 

 

Sandor gritted his teeth; he had liked that soldier. Over the few conversations he had had with him, Dran was loyal to the Starks as his forefathers had been, he was a chatty man but didn’t seem to mind Sandor's silence. Dran was too damn honorable to leave his Lady here in the clutches of the lions. Dran looked from the King to her, then back to the king, then back to her.

 

Sansa saw the moment when Dran understood no matter what he chose he would die today. She saw his jaw set and give her a slight nod; he was going to sacrifice himself in front of her, for her. Before she could tell him to stop he sprinted the short distance towards her, reaching out for her. Sandor stepped in front of her and drew his sword, cutting Dran across his chest, spraying blood across him, the table, and Sansa. She screamed, flinching as Dran’s hot blood fell on her like hot little pinpricks of hot rain.

 

She watched in horror as Dran’s body fell backward, the expression on his face one of agony. Instantly she slid from her chair and knelt next to the man who was choking on his own blood. He managed to mouth the word,  _ No _ , shoving her hand away with the last of his strength. Another hand landed on her shoulder and gently pulled her back into her chair. The Hound looked down at her with a grim frown. 

 

Shaking, she turned to Joffrey who simply smiled at her. “Your new shield protected you well. Thank him, my lady.” The king was free of all blood splatter and it made her want to claw his eyes out; Dran had been one of her last links to the North. Joffrey had done this on purpose, making Clegane kill in front of her. She knew it was to remind her of the power balance in their courtship, it was to remind her that everyone that surrounded her was a killer and she was never safe. 

 

“Th...Thank you Ser Clegane.” She said barely above a whisper. Sandor cleaned off his blade on his white cloak, sheathed it and stepped back behind her. Sansa could feel his anger coming off of him in pulsating waves, matching her own fear. Joffrey came back around the table, his ornate long sleeves dragging in the pooling blood on the ground, ignoring the last gurgling that was Dran’s last breath. 

 

“Sweetling, you look pale.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her blood-spattered lips, “You should rest. I’ll see you at dinner.” With that, the king turned and stepped around the body. As he left, she silently took out a familiar small scrap of white linen and tried to wipe her lips and face free of the blood. 

___

 

Sandor glared and snarled at everyone in their way. Having been covered in blood, there weren’t many people who were willing to stand in their path. He held his body rigid, he knew Dran didn’t have a choice. It was either his sword or Ilyn Payne. Sandor knew the instant the Northern boy chose him and he cursed the bugger for making him do it in front of the Little Bird. Sandor gripped Sansa’s small fingers as he pulled her along the halls, taking them to the new rooms, every once and a while he would snap at her to keep up. 

 

“Wash, Little Bird. Get this damn blood off of you.” Her eyes met his and she nodded, expression void of any emotion he could readily identify. He opened the door and gave her a gentle push inside of her room.

 

He followed her in, shutting the door behind him wanting her to have privacy away from the courtiers haunting the halls. Her maid dropped some clothing before screaming, “WHAT DID HE DO NOW?” Her accent was thick and seemed to snap Sansa back into this reality. “Why is the Hound here?” the maid asked in only a slightly lower tone of voice all the while throwing the man a vicious look. 

 

“Ser Clegane is now my sworn shield. He protected me from a soldier trying to taking me.” She said automatically, not looking around her new chambers. 

 

“What? Who wanted to take you?”

 

“Dran…” She whispered, feeling hot tears falling from her eyes as she began to sob in earnest at last, “He got a scroll from my mother!” A hand flew up to her mouth to stifle the sounds of her tears; the other at her stomach as she leaned back. She internally chastised herself, this is nothing more than she should expect from the boy king. A critical power play to subdue her back into her subservient manner. The logical thinking helped her, and she quickly she stifled her tears sucking in huge gulps of air and rubbing her cheeks smearing more blood on her pretty face. Sansa felt Sandor’s warm hand on her back steading her as she regained her composure; she hadn’t realized he was so close to her but was grateful for it as he steadied her.   

 

Her maid’s head snapped up and he gave her a slight nod confirming her story, “The little bird needs a bath.” He said.

 

“Thanks to you!” She snapped at him.

 

Sandor glared at her, “Get the Little Bird a bath.”  he repeated, then addressed his new charge, “Sit down, I need to look around the room.” he said to her, softer than he had intended to. She nodded and steadied herself on a nearby table. He fought the urge to reach up and wipe her tears away. Instead, he turned away from the women and began to inspect their surroundings. 

 

The room was decorated exactly as he expected it to be; red and gold everywhere. They were each given a tiny bit of privacy by way of three-foot-tall walls separating their beds across the room, the room was sparsely furnished with one long cushioned bench situated under some windows and a table against a wall. The only other furniture remaining was a few chests, a small table, and a washstand. Her wardrobe was open and he saw it filled with dresses and frippery. Sansa’s maid was clearly trying to organize and separate the various gowns. 

 

A small vanity faced out of her window, the simply cut wooden table held a few glass bottles and a hairbrush. He walked around, looking behind the one tapestry that hung on the otherwise bare wall, making sure there was no secret ways into her room. Behind a tapestry, he found a small cubby that was slightly open. Opening it further he saw a doll and a velvet pouch, he picked it up finding it heavy and peeked inside, thinking perhaps she had a dagger hidden; instead he saw a glass cylinder with grooves on it. “Put that down!” Shea snapped at him, making him glance up, then at her furious stare, he rolled his eyes. He popped it back into the cubby and resumed his search for other hidden compartments. Finding none he passed the balcony that lead to a small terrace where two chairs sat comfortably, overlooking the bay.

 

The room was one of the nicer ones Sandor had to admit.

 

“Please, I just want this blood off of me.” Sansa told Shea.

 

“I can’t leave him alone with you.”

 

“Shea, he’ll already be in here in the evenings when I am alone per the King’s command,” She gestured to the wall he had just inspected, “He won’t hurt me, and you will be back to bath me.” 

 

Sandor stared at the wall, shock rippling through him at the realization, alone with Sansa,  **fuck** . She already tormented him by her very existence, her scent, her smiles, and those damn blue eyes. He shoved the thoughts away suddenly understanding why he’d been assigned to her. Through the years it was no secret to the King that his shield had lusted after her, Joffrey on many occasions had put the girl in situations just to make Sandor uncomfortable either with her nudity or her torment. 

 

This was a god-damned **test** of her loyalty to Joffrey and the crown and him to know his fucking place. 

 

“It’s not proper.” Shea said, uncomfortable with the situation.

 

“Shea, nothing in this keep is proper.” she echoed his thought just moments ago, “Please see to that bath.”  She dismissed her maid and Shae threw him a warning look. 

 

She left slamming the door behind her, “That wasn't wise, little bird. She’ll tell her master what you said.”

 

“Yes, I suppose she will. I am sure Tyrion will stow the information for later.” She went to a small table with a water uer on it and poured some into a bowl. She took a nearby towel and cleaned her face off. “The evil you know, I guess.”

 

“Tyrion?” 

 

“She’s his. In every sense.” Sansa set the towel down and turned to him. He looked so out of place in the room. His large frame too much for the small furniture, his black armor striking out against the red and gold of her room; Sansa imagined him in just a tunic and those britches he was wearing last night. She cleared her throat, “...You’re covered in blood.” She gestured for him to come to her. 

 

He did as he was bid. She supposed having him as her sworn shield would make her life a lot easier if he simply obeyed her. Sansa gestured to the chair next to her vanity, “I’m supposed to stay standing.” He said gruffly.

 

“I won't tell if you don’t.” She whispered him, trying to smile and failing miserably. Sandor smirked as he sat on the chair, glad to find it sturdy. She took a white towel and dipped it in the water. “I’m sorry Joffrey made you kill Dran. I didn’t know he had a plan to take me away.” She went to press the towel to his face but he grabbed her wrist, making her gasp at the fast movement. Without a word he stood and took the towel from her, wiping his own face. 

 

The domesticity of the action made him uncomfortable, he might take her kisses but he wouldn’t - couldn’t take her softness. It would lead him down a path he refused to look down. She reached for him then stopped herself, fisting her hands at her sides, “I’m sorry Ser.” her voice trembling. She was about to cry again, he wanted to shake her, tell her as he had years ago to stop letting him have this power over her. But how could he? One of her trusted men had just been killed in front of her and he was the one that did it.

 

“I’m not a ser.” He growled at her.

 

“You’re not a dog either; so what should I call you?” 

 

“Clegane.”

 

She took a hasty step back as her maid entered the room once more, two men following her with a small tub and several maids carrying buckets of steaming water. Sandor pressed the towel back to Sansa’s hands and she closed her fingers around it they brushed the back of his hands. The small contact brought his eyes to her’s, he could see the fear there plain as daylight. He refused to think she was turning to him for comfort, not again, not after killing Dran in front of her. 

 

“My thanks.” He nodded to the towel. “I will step out to let you bathe. I need to gather my things and …” His head gestured to the room next to her. He mentally blocked the image of the last time he had seen her in a bath when Joffrey had ordered him to dump her frail frame into lukewarm water.  Just another one of the King’s torments for him. 

 

Once the massive man left, Shea spun on her, “Do you know what dangerous game you are playing?”

 

“I’m not playing any game, Shea.” She started to undo her dress and her maid moved to help her. “None of this was my fault or my doing.” 

 

“There is no true barrier between your rooms. Your King will want you...assessed.” 

 

Sansa paled. She hadn’t thought about that. If the king ordered a man in her rooms, was she still to have a maester poking his finger in her woman's place? Maybe he was looking for a reason to execute her, anything but the utmost purity from her would result in her following her father to the grave. Or did he want a reason to through her from the red keep and turn her out from being a Lannister Ward? Shea had her out of the dress and Sansa stepped into the steaming bath. She quickly washed the blood from her body and hair. “When do you think he will want to check me?”

 

“Soon; Tyrion says if not him then Cersei,” Shea said brushing her oils into her hair. 

 

****

 

Sandor strode to his old room to collect the few things he owned, leaving the door open. It didn’t take long before several of his fellow guardsmen came to ‘congratulate’ him on his new charge. When he heard Trants snide voice he attempted to ignore the fucker, “Looks like you got yourself a fancy promotion.” 

 

‘Fuck off Trant… Or do you want another broken arm?” He glanced over at his shoulder to see the others, some kingsguard some not all snickering at him. Trant for his part took a step back. 

 

“What are you going to do now sit in a sewing circle?” An unnamed man spat behind him. Sandor spun around and glared at the men. Being reassigned to a Lady that was not Queen would have normally chafed him as it would any soldier. Too many ladies were scared of him, refused to look at him, but this was his little bird. Sansa had always looked at directly at him and wasn’t scared of him, at least, not anymore. 

 

“Fuck off.” He snarled at the men, “I’ll still be in the training yards you cunts. You want to join Trant in mending broken bones?” The men stopped and glanced at one and other, Trant’s injury had been bad enough and he’s lost wages. No one wanted that or to piss off the Hound to the point of violence. 

 

“We was just jokin’ with ya.” A younger man said. “No harm in banter.”

 

“Fuck off.” He snapped again, and resumed shoving his tunics and britches into a bag another man came up to him, “Seven fucking hells, what do  **you** want?” 

 

“You killed Dran.” was Daris’s simple response to his snarl. 

 

“Aye, he had a half-cocked notion to take the lady.”

 

“Stupid boy.” Daris sighed, “Tried to talk him out of it.”

 

“Lot of good it did him.” He stuffed his gold into another bag, “Don’t try that shit again.”

 

“We didn’t want him to do it in the first place.” Daris defended. 

 

“Keep your heads down. The buggering king knows about Dran’s note from your mistress. Don’t need her crying again seeing more fucking blood.” He grumbled slinging the sacks over his shoulder, he didn’t see Daris’s smirk.  Of all the things Daris had seen coming down and living in King’s Landing, the blood, shit, and death; he’d never once seen someone so wanting as the Hound. Whether he knew it or not Sandor Clegane was walking to the only woman that could ever save the man

 

“Clegane,” He called after the retreating man.

 

“Fuck sake  **what** ?” Daris jogged up to him before continuing. 

 

“Our lady is special, don’t fuck it up boy and don’t let anyone find out.”

 

“About what?” 

 

“She’ll tell you when she trusts you.” 

 

“Fucking Northerners.” He grumbled turning from Daris and stalking down the hall, another memory resurfacing. When he’d steadied Lord Eddard Stark on the dias that summer day three moons ago, he’d begged him to keep his daughter safe, both of them.  _ ‘Don’t let them find out. Clegane, promise it. I know there’s honor in you. She saw it in you, keep my girls safe!’  _ he’d said nothing to the man other than a nod. He’d started watching over the girl when she’d stepped into the capitol, another reason he’d trusted her with his past. She’d been so innocent and naive believing in fairy tales and flowery princes. He was loath to see it stripped away so brutally but slowly over the years she had hardened, she learned to manipulate even Lord Baelish like it was nothing. The girl that stepped into King’s Landing was still buried somewhere within her, he’d felt it when she clung to him after nearly being raped. When she reached for him earlier today, she still wanted a knight in shining armor, still wanted to be saved. But then again, didn’t every Lady?

****

 

Cersei sent the Grand Maester to Sansa’s rooms that night, his assistant carrying a pale cloak with small gray designs on the hem. “Good Evening Lady Stark,” he said as he shuffled passed her new shield.

 

“Grand Maester.” The tall woman inclined her head.

 

“I haven't seen you in my offices lately. I supposed the king is calling on you a good deal?”

 

“I apologize, I know the orders for the salves must be piling up. I can be there the day after next to take care of it.” _ What the bloody hell was she talking about? _ Sandor knew from her habits that Sansa visited the Maester about once a week, but no idea for what.

 

“Lady Stark… er if you could lay back on the bed… best get this ugly business over with.” He gestured to the bed and Sansa blushed. Shea stood on the left side of the bed and gently took her hand. “Forgive me, I tried to exempt you from this as your story about the alleyway matches Clegane’s, but her Grace was insistent.”

 

“I’ll step outside,” Sandor said.

 

“Actually,” the assistant, a smallish weasley man, said, “The Queen bade you stay with her during this process, another witness to the future queen’s virtue.”  Shoving his growl down, Sandor turned his back to the maesters to give the girl a modicum of privacy and stared resolutely at the wall. 

 

Sansa lay back and drew up her legs, and the Maester gently lifted her skirts and gave her an apologetic look. “I am sorry my Lady. Almost all the maidens have been assessed because of  the riot.” He said and quickly performed his task. Sansa pushed her head back into the pillow at the uncomfortable sensation of dry fingers probing her. When the Maester gently tested to see if her maidenhead was still intact. she gave a little pained gasp.

 

Sandor kept his eyes on the pale gold wall in front of him, he didn’t want to think of the old man poking his fingers about the Little Bird. When she gasped, her right hand shot out and grasped his leg. He risked a glance down at her and saw her eyes squeezed in pain, but it passed quickly. “All done My Lady. The king will be most happy to hear you are still as pure as fresh snow.” He gently pulled down her skirts and then said, “There is another matter My Lady.”  Sansa closed her legs and released Sandor’s leg. Shea helped her to a seated position, then nodded for the Maester to continue, “The King will want you checked once a month as you have Clegane as a shield. He wants to…”

 

Shea spoke before she could, “The king ordered this man in her rooms and to never leave her side. Why do you need to check her?”

 

“Yes… well, she **is** the future queen, she must be intact before her wedding.”

 

“Shea,” Sansa looked to her maid, “I understand, Grand Maester. I will submit to the King’s demands.”

 

“Of course, of course.” The older man said softly. He quickly took his leave, and his assistant gave her the light gray cloak before following his master out of her rooms. 

 

Shea huffed and looked at Sansa expectantly, “Go on Shea, tell Tyrion the good news.” She said, genuinely urging her maid to go seek out her master. She murmured her thanks and swept out of the room as well, leaving the two alone once more. 

 

Sansa held the cloak in her lap, absently was tracing a finger around the rough cotton until Sandor cleared his throat. “I think that’s my new cloak,” he stated.

 

“Oh, yes.” She stood, unfolding the long fabric, and handed it to him. He took it and swung it over his shoulders, having given up his kingsguard cloak earlier today. 

 

“Come on-, you cunt.” He glared at the small clasp, the shiny metal only mocked him; his fingers to large to successfully hook it together. Another pair of hands reached up and took the clasps from him. 

 

“Isn’t this supposed to go under some of your armor?”  She asked before she latched it.

 

“Aye. I don’t feel like taking all this shit off to do that.” 

 

“Tell me how.” She said. He did and found she was as efficient as her maid with fabric. She circled in front of him again and finally clasped the cloak now that is was in its proper place. 

 

She gave him a weak smile, “I can trust  _ you...  _ right?” Sansa had no idea if she really could or couldn’t; just because he was her sworn shield meant nothing. He could be that loyal to the Lannisters, he could tell Joffrey her every secret. She smoothed the folds of fabric on his chest, enjoying the feel of the fabric covered armor. 

 

Sandor balked, no one had ever asked him that without wanting something in return. He felt her hands smoothing down the cloak enjoying the feel of it far too much. He should be stepping away from her touch, “I gave you a vow, didn’t I?” Vows and promises were lies waiting to break someone; but not when he said them, because they were bullshit because they broke people Sandor never swore a vow he did not intend to keep even forced ones. He fought the continuing urge to pull her into his arms, to give her the comfort she wanted so desperately from anyone. 

 

But, he couldn’t give into softness, no matter how pretty the source was. The king would kill them both and only he knew this was a test of their loyalties.  

 

“Vows here mean nothing,” Sansa flickered her damn blue eyes up at him. “You know that.” 


	5. Playing Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More lessons and more players

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Life has been hectic. Here is an extra long chapter.

That evening Sansa fell into her bed, late as usual with only a few candles lit to help her read. Tonight she had a book on the North and the lore, and though she knew the subject well, she enjoyed to stories all the same. Sandor was continually distracting her with the chink of his armor as he checked her door three times to make sure it was bolted, then checked the windows, then the tiny fireplace, and lastly her balcony.

 

“Satisfied?” She asked him dryly, he responded with a glare.

 

“Are you always up this late?” 

 

“Always. Sleep doesn't come easy.” She’d pulled her quilt up nearly to her chin every time he came over to her side of the room, feeling self-conscious with a man, well  _ him _ , in her room. “It never really has.” She had set the book down and sat up , glad to be wearing a red shift under the blankets. It wasn’t transparent like her other shifts were, so she would be covered if the blanket fell. “You can still sleep, I know that you must be tired.”

 

He ignored her offer of sleep, “Even after our training?”

 

“Well, it was different. I fell asleep faster but woke up earlier.” He grunted and without thinking sat down on the edge of her bed, not realizing the simple domesticity of the action for what it was. Still, Sansa felt better with him closer; the smell of cedar wrapping her in warmth and safety; his simple presence making her lips tingle again. 

 

She knew this morning had been a message meant to make her afraid of the giant of a man, but she wasn’t. He’d been forced to kill Dran in front of her, but afterward had comforted her by making her stay in her rooms. Sansa dragged her thumb across her bottom lip, intensifying the tingling. The forced solitude made her realize several things. She wanted the man she got at night when they trained, not _this_ distant Hound intent on snarling at everyone and everything. The man at night was sweet if a bit demanding; she liked seeing that side of him. She suspected he was clinging to her touch like she was to his. “When did you start your training?” She asked suddenly.

 

“I was about 10 years old, at Casterly Rock. I was assigned to some old fucker of a knight. He trained me from sunup to sundown. I used to fall asleep in my armor.” He told her.

 

“That seems uncomfortable.”  She drew her knees up to her chest, letting the blanket fall from her chin but wanting to hear the story he’d never told her. Secretly, she loved his stories; his life, while painful, was as interesting as any book she'd ever read. The more he told her about himself, the more she started to see the man under the Hound. The more she could see why he was so angry, and the more she understood him. 

 

“It was , but I didn’t care,” he said dragging his thumb across his stubbled jawline. She saw the moment he relaxed and finally started talking to her like he used to, telling her about his past and simply talking in general. For once it was not complemented with his usual threats of death and dismemberment ;  Sansa had learned to see through the threats and just let him talk. 

 

“Do you plan to wear me out like that tomorrow?” She had asked him before realizing the double standard of her words. She blushed furiously as the air between them hung heavy. Sansa realized just how naked she was under the thin red cotton. If he decided to, he could take her .. and she wasn’t sure she would want him to stop. Her traitorous mind whispered to her, would one night of free abandon be enough for her if her head was struck from her shoulders because of it? Could she betray Joffrey just this once? She deserves some happiness, right? Was it even happiness, or just lust?

 

“It’s not smart to tease a dog.” He warned her, leaning closer to the thin woman. Sansa found herself leaning closer to him in return, playing with the edges of the quilt.

 

‘I’m not teasing you.” She shifted so she was on her knees, “I know you don’t like it.” 

 

She’d been teasing him all damn day and didn’t know it, she would sit in her rooms peacefully watching the blackwater, sewing , or giggling with her maid. Every time she passed the door he smelled her lavender oils . Watching her from a distance had been one thing, protecting her from a distance another, but now that he was so close to her he could touch her if he wanted it was driving him mad. He could taste her when he wanted now, the fact that she would be powerless to stop it, in both mind and body, only aroused him more. 

 

Sandor couldn’t take it anymore; the smell of her sweet soap and the generous curves of her body demanded his attention, all of it. He closed the distance between them and kissed her. Waves of heat ignited throughout Sansa’s body, her instinct clear this time and she needed to be closer to him. She tossed the blanket to the side and allowed him to pull her closer to him. Their first kiss outside of duty made her want to pull off his armor and run her fingers up and down his broad chest. _"What is wrong with me?"_  she thought to herself, _“Why can I  not keep my hands to myself when we are alone?”_

 

Sansa gripped his cloak, urging him to closer to her, but instead, he grabbed her and dragged her to his lap. Her shift bunched up at her thighs as she straddled him w ith a soft moan coming from the back of her throat. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed being in his arms and forced herself not to think about what that meant. It had only been a day since he claimed her mouth since his hands roamed her body. “ _ I should stop, _ ” She thought to herself. Armored or not his scent still penetrated her very being. Sandor’s hands came down the curve of her back and settled on the globes of her generous rear and squeezed it. Sansa jerked forward at the unexpected sensation giving a small moan, he groaned under her appreciatively. She began to feel damp between her legs and her hips seemed to be moving on their own volition. Certainly, she,  _ Lady Sansa, _ wasn’t moaning into his mouth like some common whore. 

 

She felt the dagger on his hip under her soft thigh as his hard hands kneaded her ass, gripping, squeezing, and coaxing. Sansa was beyond thinking- her only focus was his lips, his taste, his hands; her body screaming at her to love this man. She moved her hands from his broad shoulders up to his cheeks needing to deepen the kiss .

 

Suddenly he jumped back, breaking their kiss and leaving her bereft. Her hands hung in midway in the air between them. “Was that one for free?” he said raggedly as his eyes narrowed at her. 

 

“What?” She said in confusion, panting from the kiss. Sandor focused on her kiss-bruised lips. It would be easy to unlace himself and shove his cock inside of her. Giving in to all his fantasies about her, it would mark him as a dead man but , he would die with one happy memory. But the heat from the kiss ebbed away slowly, leaving Sansa feeling cold . Strong fingers dug into her wrists making her shiver , “I don’t understand.” 

 

“Your bloody kiss.” He growled at her.

 

“ **You** kissed me.” She hissed and he glared at her as if it was her fault as if her being spread across his lap was her fault. “Sandor . ”  I t was the first time she used his given name , and it sounded good rolling off her tongue.  He glared at her. 

 

“Get to bed. We’re training again tomorrow.” he pushed her from his lap, and he regretted losing her heat instantly, losing her willing lips and soft body.  _ "Fuck me." _ He growled to himself,  _ "This is some special hell." _ he thought to himself. 

 

**___________**

 

Lord Baelish walked through the moonlit hall, adjusting his sleeves and waited for the serving woman to come up to him to provide her tidbits of information he had missed while he was away. They were in an empty hall, a basket of dirty laundry on the brunette's hip. “M’lord.” She greeted.

 

“Melisa, tell me everything.” He smiled, proffering a gold dragon.

 

She told him about the comings and goings of different lords and ladies and the rumor that The King had gone into a lady’s rooms last night. Then she cleared her throat, “I know you were wantin’ me to watch the Lady Sansa for you.” He nodded. “King Joff gave her The Hound.”

 

“What?”

 

“Aye, he’s her sworn sword and shield now m’lord. Sharin’ a room now. Rumor has it that Joff wants to test her virtue.”

 

“Very interesting... keep watching.” He handed her another gold dragon, “I want to know everything our friend is doing.” Melisa knew this routine, she took the gold coin from him before telling him what she knew. 

 

“Already been doin’ it m’lord. They met in the godswood a few days back, kissed him she did.”

 

“Come again?” Baelish blinked at the maid several times,  _ “Lady Sansa kissing the Hound?” _

 

“The Lady Sansa, she **kissed** him. Betty says her hands were all over the ugly man.” She smiled at him, “Said the lady **actually** moaned. Can you imagine?” Lady Sansa had kissed the Hound? What else had changed in the two moons he’d been gone from the capitol? “Though can’t blame her, a man that big would bring any womans wants out. She’s playing a dangerous game with that man, he’s a dog with a bone. Did I ever tell you that Felicity once laid with him? Said she wasn’t afraid of no dog.” Pyter shook his head. It was useless information but he let it continue, “Anyway she came out shakin’, said she would never let another man between her legs again. Bruises and bitemarks and the such. Took the holy vows the next week.” 

 

“Keep watching for me, should they kiss again let me know. And come to me immediately if anything else happens.” he took the washerwoman’s rough hand and pressed his lips to it, “I’ll see you in my chambers later tonight.”

 

****

 

Sansa had woken with an ache between her thighs and knew who was responsible for it. She knew Sandor was restraining himself around her and she wasn’t helping anything . She liked being in his arms for whatever reason, she knew she felt safe in his arms but she also liked the way his mouth moved over hers even more. When she had found small bruises on her hips nothing could suppress the goosebumps that ran through her body. She had never felt this way about a man ; she had never reacted to a man in this way - she wanted control of her body back. She felt like he had a hold of her she doubted he knew it; if he did he was just as lost as she in this matter. 

 

Sansa shoved the feelings down as she dressed for the day, selecting a red gown that she had yet to debut. She had spent a generous amount on the red silk and chiffon, thinking it would appease Joffrey but now she had another idea. “Shea.” she said turning her head in her roughly polished mirror, “Cinch the corset tighter.” 

 

“My lady?” Sansa was never one to show her curves as Sansa had always felt it would draw too much attention to her body, “Do you have something in mind?”

 

“Something like that.” She said as her maid unlaced her gown and cinched her corset, making her breasts pushed up and her waist nip in. Sansa was determined to make the Hound feel just as lost as herself, and just as frustrated. She needed to remind him who was in control of their little game. 

 

She stepped out of her room, dismissing her maid until the evening, “Court is being held today.” She said to her shield, who had been standing at her door while she got ready for the day. 

 

Sandor looked down at his little charge and forced himself to remain passive. Her dress clung to her form in a way he’d only imagined, and even though his hands had been all over her last night , he could now see her tiny waist and full bosom in full sunlight. 

 

“Shall we go?” she asked him, a smile playing on her lips. He scowled at her and fell behind her as she strode through the halls towards the throne room. He scowled deeper at the sway of her hips and ready smile at every passing lord, all of who simply  _ had  _ to make a comment on how lovely the weather was or how nice the fabric of her dress was. One lord was even so bold as to ask who her dressmaker was. Sondor snorted loudly when she told the lord she was her dress maker, “No one quite gets the measurements right, I’m sure you understand, Lord Wendell, your own poor wife having such unique measurements herself.” the Lord, reminded of his wife, stuttered his thanks and left her. Sandor gripped her arm as she selected a spot on the second level toward s the back. 

 

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was gravelly in her ear. 

 

“Only what’s required of me.”

 

“Bullshit, that dress belongs in a brothel and you know it.” His gauntleted hand gripped her arm, “Now every fucking lord here…”

 

Sansa ripped her arm back from Sandor, “Do not rip my dress, Ser! I spent a long time on it.” He glared at her as the King walked in below them on the main level with his overly large crown on his head but he didn’t relent his grip on her. “A brothel… really!” She blushed furiously at him, “How?” 

 

“Now every fucking lord here knows the damn color of your … your…” He gestured at her chest. Sansa glanced down, but nothing was revealed other than the tops of her creamy breasts.

 

“Then I guess you will have to be extra vigilant today won’t you?” She smirked up at him and toyed with a lock of her hair. Sandor forced himself to not snatch her and drag her back to her room to make her change. Running his hand over his face he took a step back and continued to glare at her wonderfully shaped ass. 

 

As court was called into session Sansa stood in the throne room listening to tidbits of the chattering conversation around her. She had learned a long time ago it was better to stay in the back and to gather information from whispers rather than from formal announcements. Sandor shifted from one foot to the other and stepped closer to her. 

 

He glared at a lordling who had made a step toward his little bird.  _ What the fuck was she thinking wearing this?  _ The sheer fabric at her hips swayed with the breeze. He wanted to demand she save her curves just for him, but he’d fucked that up hadn’t he? Tossing her from his lap like that; fucking hells if he hadn’t, she would be his now or his head would be on a bloody spike. 

 

But his fingers itched to wrap around her waist and remind her she was a woman in a world full of evil men. Most of all him. Last night he nearly threw her on the bed and ripped off her shift and claimed her, and he could have done it too. Sandor needed to hear her soft sigh from her lips as he pressed himself into her, needed her song ringing in his ears as he took her. Grinding his teeth in frustration he adjusted his cloak, anything to get his mind off of her soft lips against his. 

 

Even now as he stood behind her Sansa felt his heat, his cedar scent making the ache between her thighs worse. Her plan was working, almost to a fault; Sandor was now highly aggravated and would be for the rest of the day, snapping and snarling at any man who came within ten feet of her. She forced the thoughts of his hard body away from her and tried to focus on the whispers around her. 

 

Lord Baelish had taught her many things but nothing had been so helpful as listening to servants or to lesser lords. She had generated a sort of loyal network amongst the servants simply by thanking them and treating them like human beings. Other times she had freely given items and food to others who were in need, not knowing that it would foster such loyalty. However, it turned out to her advantage for simply being ladylike as her mother had taught her. She turned her head slightly to hear the passing conversation to her right. 

 

“Stannis will be here in less than a fortnight.”  “The king’s done nothing to help our defenses.” “Better him than Tommen, at least that boy can swing a sword.” Sansa’s mind whirled at the possibilities of a battle at King’s Landing. Though Aegon’s descendants had built the castle she didn’t know if it could rightfully withstand an attack from the sea. 

 

When court was dismissed, Varys walked up to her, his hands in his sleeves. “My Lady.” 

 

“My Lord.” She gave him a curtsy.

 

“What do you want Spider?” Sandor growled at the eunuch. 

 

“I simply wish to speak with the Lady, in private.” he turned to Sansa, “Take a turn with me?” 

 

“I am as private as privates going to get Spider!” He snarled at Varys. 

 

Smirking Sansa shrugged at Lord Varys, “As he says, he's not allowed to leave me per the King’s instructions. I trust him Varys.” He looked doubtful but Clegane had been at the Keep long enough to know when to keep his mouth shut and when to talk. 

 

Sansa fell into line with him slowing her normal gate to walk around the Throne room. She felt immeasurably safe was the chink of Sandor's armor followed them about the throne room. Still, Varys had proven himself a trustworthy friend and a loyal one at that. Once, she had asked him plainly where his loyalties where and surprisingly he answered her,  _ “The people my lady.”  _ and in that, she and Varys understood each other completely. “I understand at least one of your father’s men has been recently killed.” 

 

“Dran, yes. He tried to take me from his grace, my shield stopped him.” She said sullenly. 

 

“Not Dran. Daris.” 

 

“What?” She stopped in her tracks. Daris had been one of the oldest men in her father’s service and a trusted friend to her and her father, who would want to kill him. Why? “When?” Her hand finding Vary’s forearm. 

 

“Keep your voice down my lady, and it was early this morning. The report says he died of natural causes.”

 

“ **You** said he was killed.”

 

“One can’t die of natural causes with a dagger in one’s back. Answer me truthfully, did you know of this plot?” 

 

“Why would I know of something like this? Why would I even want that?” She snapped at the Spider, “I would turn to other avenues my lord, tell me what you find. Please excuse me, I find myself faint and in need of a laydown.”

 

“My Lady?” Sansa spun around to face him again, not bothering to hide her irritation, “I never offered your condolences on your losses. You’ve experienced far too many for one as young as yourself.” 

 

“Thank you my lord.” her voice and anger softened almost immediately. Varys was many things... but he was always sincere about loss. 

 

*****

 

Lord Baelish tilted his head, observing the interaction between Lady Stark and Lord Varys. He was sure she was being told about Daris; the soldier had overheard him talking to Ser Gregor and needed to be eliminated. Not that anyone would miss a random Northern soldier. Lord Varys was predictable in seeking out the best potential ruler and trying to make peace between the current tyrant and his fiance. Peace did not interest Baelish at al. Peace was bad for business. Peace meant men went home to their wives instead of throwing their coin in his brothels and stagnation in court. Chaos was always a ladder for him, something he had tried to impress upon the Lady Sansa. 

 

She’d picked up quickly on how things worked here in the capitol when she arrived as just a child of five and ten, and she’d been smarter than her father.  _ Sad _ , he thought, _ if Lord Stark had listened to his daughter he would still be alive now, probably still the Hand of the King with his daughter helping him.  _

 

To Lord Baelish, the Northern Princess had one fatal flaw, the same as her father; loyalty. Sansa was loyal to the North and she was loyal to her brother, even if she lied to the King’s face. She had successfully maneuvered within the court to have a steady feed of information. How, he didn’t know, since she did not have access to her fortune until she turned 20 years in just a few days’ time. But maybe the way she was dressed today had something to do it. No man in court could take his eyes off of the curvaceous redhead. 

 

He knew when to make an alliance and Sansa Stark would be a far better ally than enemy, not that she could do anything to him. Really, she was just a girl, and all alone at court and in the world. Baelish was not ignorant, however, of the one weapon she could use on the king and  _ would _ use in time to get whatever she wanted. 

 

As soon as she left Lord Varys he moved to intercept her exit. “My Lady.” He gave her a quick bow, forcing her to stop to acknowledge him. Her features were icy like her namesake at court.

 

“Lord Baelish,” She nodded at him as he stepped into line with her, The Hound uncomfortably close to him. Her shield’s closeness didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest, “What do you want?” She asked, not unkindly. That was the way of Sansa; she was soft and sweet, no hint of claws or fangs even in her deceptions. 

 

“You know I wish only to help you.” He said in his strangely husky voice. 

 

“And how do you intend on doing that?” She asked, striding through the full hallways once again. It seemed the other lords and ladies stepped out of her way, only a few sneering in her direction while others openly ogled her. Whether that was to her credit or the Hound’s, he couldn’t say. 

 

“I am sailing out of King’s Landing in the next few days.”

 

“Before the battle? No sword in hand, Lord Baelish?” 

 

“I’ve enough scars from your uncle.” He smirked at her. 

 

“Yes, I’ve heard the story.” 

 

“You know I loved your mother very much. I would do anything for her.” 

 

“My lord, you are  _ still _ in love with my mother.” The Hound snorted behind them. Lord Baelish stopped, forcing her to do the same. 

 

“Maybe my lady, I sail to the Stormlands to speak with Renly Baratheon.” 

 

“Renly?” She felt Sandor‘s heat behind her and unconsciously leaned back into it away from the slimy master of coin, “Why? Stannis has the better claim.” She whispered. 

 

“True, but Stannis is a hard man - unforgiving.”  Sansa stepped back, uncomfortable around the man, closer to her shield nearly touching his armored chest. The Hound’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, the gauntlet bending as he dug his fingers into her soft body protectively,  “And he is already going to attack the city.” Baelish’s eyes fell to the Hound’s other hand falling to his sword. Testing his boundaries he reached out to her red locks and tugged an errant curl.

 

Sansa recoiled from the oily man’s touch, she knew what he did to her family. She knew he was the reason her father was dead. She could not and would not play this game with him. She had considered making him think she was easy to manipulate but decided against it for she could not bear her father's murderer’s hands on her in any capacity.  

 

“You’re going to Renly…” She trailed off thinking, bringing her thumb to her mouth, Baelish knew it for the nervous habit that it was. She did it whenever she was mulling over something or reading- a habit that he found endearing and useful.  “Thank you, my lord.” She said to him abruptly and strode past him, her armored shadow following. 

 

Lord Baelish was forced to step out of her way as she strode past him, “Lady Sansa.” She was once again forced to stop and face him. 

 

“You know I am forever in your service, and I am a true friend to you.” 

 

“The lady has places to be, Littlefinger,” Sandor growled at her side. Despite the warning in her shield’s voice, Pyter stepped closer to her and took her hand before she could yank it away. She sucked in a breath- his hand was soft and his nails manicured, “Rumor has it your mother is in Renly’s camp.” 

 

Sansa’s hands grew cold instantly. H _ er mother! _ Sansa felt her knees go weak at the prospect of simply hugging her mother. “I could take you to her. Back to your family.” He whispered. “Before anything else  **tragic** happens. It seems no Northmen fairs well down here.” She tried to pull her hand back, tired of his game. His fingers gripped hers much like Joffrey was wont to do. 

 

“You.” She hissed at him, her blue eyes slits. “How dare you!” Sansa had understood from the moment her father’s head was struck from his shoulders her safety was gone. Now she had to contend with a master manipulator edging her out from court and from favor. Why would he tell her? That would only serve to further the distance between them. Was it another lesson in the Game or was Baelish really that stupid? 

 

“Let the lady go.” Sandor reached between them and grasped Baelish’s arm and squeezed until he released his little bird. “Get gone, whoremonger.” Sansa put her hand on his vambrace and he released Baelish.

 

Pyter watched the silent exchange between them, his irritation growing when he realized they were not even looking at each other. The Hound glared down at him like he was a bug needing to be squished, though Baelish knew he was safe as long as he kept their conversation in the open. Still, he needed to be wary of the giant warrior; any slight offense against the lady could result in his head being removed from his shoulders by the brute. Clegane was like that around Sansa. He’d always been since she was young, and now he had the power to kill any man who even dared touch her should he decide. 

 

When his eyes fell back to Sansa’s, her normal cold mask was in place and gone was the vulnerable maiden. In her place a shrewd ice queen worthy to be at his side. 

 

“Have a nice day, my lord.” She said again and left him. 

 

*******

 

Sansa found herself in her rooms staring out at the black water late in the afternoon. Shea was sitting quietly sitting next to her as she thought. She was sure that Pyter had ordered Daris’s death, but to what end? Daris was an old soldier, but  _ loyal _ . He would never break faith with House Stark, not willingly. Dran was young and brash but Daris would never try to get her out of the capitol without a plan or a real threat to her life. Someone else knew about Daris’s plans, someone who shared it with Littlefinger. She would start with Edrick, the last of her Stark men. If nothing else to inform him of what  _ really  _ happened. 

 

“Stop chewing on your thumb.” Shea’s voice brought Sansa back to the present. “You will gnaw it off.” 

 

“I was thinking.”

 

“I know.” Shea was attempting to fix one of her dresses that had suffered a minor tear. “What were you thinking about?” 

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Sansa stood up and stretched her legs, “I can’t do anything about it.” 

 

“That’s the wrong attitude.” Sansa spun around to see Lord Varys at the edge of her balcony. 

 

“Where is Sandor?” Sansa demanded instantly. 

 

“Still at your door my lady. Don’t worry, I was questioned thoroughly.”  _ Not thoroughly enough _ , Sansa thought to herself. She nodded to her maid who rolled her eyes and left them. “I wondered if I could speak with you about something that happened in the small council meeting.” 

 

Sansa sat back down and gestured to the seat recently vacated by Shea, “Is it true that my mother is in Renly’s camp?” 

 

Lord Varys was quiet for several long moments, Sansa focused on the sound of the water chopping below her balcony, “Yes. She is. She’s trying to broker an alliance between your brother and Renly.” Sansa tapped a fingernail on the wooden arm of her chair. Renly was everyone's choice then. He was young and already had an alliance with the Tyrells, likely he had married Margery the famed beauty. If the Reach was beyond Joffrey, then the food shortages would continue and the people more and more hungry. She shuddered against the thought and the memory of the alleyway. 

 

Where Stannis was hard and unmoving, Renly was pliable; an attractive thing for the current lords of Westeros - especially Lord Baelish. And Sansa knew her brother, Robb would never want the Iron Throne, only the North; their father’s beheading had effectively shut off anyway the North would ever bend to a southern ruler again. “What is on your mind, Lord Varys?” She asked before she became too deep in thought.

 

“Joffrey recently attended a small council meeting.” Sansa snorted, “I know. However, since you are to be queen, Tyrion suggested to bring you to the table.” 

 

“Me?”

 

“I think, if I may be frank my lady, it is to torment you. They will be discussing the war against your brother.”

 

“And the Queen?”

 

“She is less than enthusiastic, but what can she say against her son?”  Sansa understood she didn’t have a choice then. Normally it was seen as a great honor for her to be at the table with so many powerful people. Especially for a woman and she had no doubt the Queen was livid and would take it out on her. She barely heard the next meeting date as Varys excused himself. 

 

****

 

That evening, Sandor and Sansa made their way to the Godswood under the guise of her wanting to pray, their wooden swords hidden under Sandor’s cloak. Sansa had changed from her red gown to a plain pink one, though the corset under was still tight. No one seemed to even look at them as she strode through the halls and out to the sacred space. When they arrived, several people were milling around so she stepped back and started to talk to Sandor; she needed a distraction from today’s earlier conversations with Lord Baelish and Varys. So she turned to getting to know her constant companion. He didn’t like questions but she didn’t care. 

 

“What will you teach me tonight?” She asked softly.

 

“Disarming, more dirty fighting.” He scratched under his chin, answering without fighting.  _ Alright _ , she thought to herself,  _ he’s in a good mood _ .  “Not much else a lady like you should know.”

 

She stepped closer to him and he stiffened, “May I ask you something?” He looked down at her and nodded, “Why do you let Joffrey call you a dog?”

 

He stopped and grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. “A Hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he’ll look you straight in the face.” His fingers dug into her arm painfully, “That’s more than little birds can do, isn’t it?”  

 

Sansa’s breath caught in her chest. She wanted to tell him that he was hurting her but at the same time she didn’t want him to stop. She was getting used to his grasp now and he never gripped her hard enough to leave a bruise. So instead she said, “I am here with you, aren't I?” Sandor pointed out that this was because she wanted it  _ not _ because he did. “Were my kisses really that bad? Even the one last night?” She asked. He growled at her then and released her arm.

 

“The godswood is empty, let's start,” he said, directing them to the same small clearing that they had used before. He removed his armor and cloak and handed her the smaller sword. “Show me what you remember.” She did and Sandor was surprised to see she retained a lot of the training. She blocked his blow with a parry and stepped aside when he pushed forward, diverting his weight. When he was righting himself she tapped him with the end of her sword.

 

“I remember what you said.” She said smiling, clearly proud of herself.

 

“Good,” His hand shot out and snatched her wrist and twisted it so that she dropped the weapon and pulled her close to him, pulling her wrist in the air. Her body slammed into his with an  _ ‘oof’  _ sound. She looked up at him. His silver eyes were narrowed, making the burnt side of his face seem even more marred. “Don’t get cocky girl. All men are stronger than you, it’s how we are made.” She nodded and breathed in, his scent was making her heady again. She could feel his hard chest against her, her traitorous body urged her to lay her head against the man and just let him protect her. She yanked her hand down only to find he didn’t release it.

 

“Let go of me.” Her heart started to speed up.

 

He smiled. It wasn't a kind smile, not the ones she was used to from him; “Make me.” he rasped. She opened her mouth to argue, “Not with your damn mouth girl. Make me lose my grip.”

 

She yanked again and his grasp only became harder, her breathing became labored she started to hear the sounds of the riot again, “You’ll break my bones!”

 

“Will I? Better get your wrist away from me then.” He said, only using a portion on his strength against her delicate body and knew he wouldn’t break her bones. “What do you think would have happened to you today in that fucking red dress?” The dress? She’d worn it for him! Sansa tried to yank her hand back again, “If I hadn’t been there, Trant…” Sansa felt the familiar panic rise up in her throat, she felt the many hands from the riot grabbing at her - pulling her and throwing her down to the ground-, blocking Sandor’s voice. She smelled the blood and shit that reeked of Flea Bottom and kicked out. Her leg went up and made contact with his crotch. Sandor’s eyes widened as he released her immediately and sank to his knees cupping his manhood. He hadn’t been expecting it-ladies didn’t kick. 

 

Sansa spun and started to run-he was on her in a flash, gripping her skirts and pulling her back against him. She landed hard against his chest and heavy arms wrapped around her. Both kneeling in the soft Godswood grass. She felt his breath against her ear and his rage as he spoke, “Do that again and I will kill you.” Despite the words, she felt her panic recede, the clawing terror and fear stepped back into the shadows away from her and Sandor’s arms. 

 

“You told me to make me lose your grip,” she said her voice still shaking, not sure if the threat was empty. It did look like it hurt him and how he moved so fast afterward he surprised her. 

 

“That was dirty,” he growled in her ear, his warm breath on her ear making her shiver. 

 

“The lesson tonight  **is** dirty fighting.” She hissed back at him.

 

He spun her around to face him, “Do not do that to  _ me  _ ever again.” He said again, shaking her. Sansa narrowed her eyes but didn’t speak. “Swear it or I will go back into the keep and leave you here.”

 

“You’re my sworn shield you can’t do that.” He glared at her. He knew she was right but that didn’t mean he couldn’t put some fear into her. Abruptly he released her and went to grab the swords, limping slightly. “What are you doing?”

 

“We are done for this eve.”

 

“We are not!”

 

“Yes, we are.” He stalked twenty feet from her before she spoke again.

 

“Wait!” He turned to look at her still kneeling form. She lasted longer than he thought she would, “I’m sorry.” She said with her shoulders slumped. “I just... you wouldn't let go and Trant did the same…” Tears started to fall down her face. Sansa had felt the same panic she did just a few days ago when those men had her pinned and she was defenseless.

 

“Fuck.” He said walking back to her as Sansa wiped the tears away from her face.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She repeated again and again. “I know you won’t hurt me it’s just...them. I heard them again, felt them on me before you came to save me.”

 

Sandor, as gently as he could, grabbed the sides of her face, “They aren't here, they are dead, little bird. They can’t touch you ever again, ever.” he heard the anger in his voice, she must have too, seeing her cringe against it.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

 

“Say it! Those men are dead.”

 

“They’re dead.” She whispered. “They’re dead. You saved me, and they are dead.”

 

“Good girl.”

 

“I won't hit you there again.”

 

“I can’t say I’m not grateful, it’s a good tactic to use on other men.”  she looked up at him, “Take your sword, let me teach you more.”

 

He was more gentle with her this eve and gave her more praise than the previous session. “Attack me like I am the man that pinned you down. You’ve got a sword in your hand, swing it like you mean to kill me.” He said looking down at her. She was so tiny and looked a bit daft with a sword in her hand, even a wooden one.

 

Sandor waited for her to move, her ice blue eyes boring into him, “I don’t want to hit  _ you  _ like that.”

 

“I’ve a sword and I can block you. I just want you to swing like you mean to kill me. Put your anger into that swing, girl, not your fear.”

 

Sansa looked up at her Hound. His eyes were soft but encouraging. He made a motion to her and she swung; she piled all the scared, angry energy she had into her arm and swung, he blocked her easily, “Again.” he said, taking a step back, she followed. She struck again, seeing each attacker’s face flash before her eyes “Good, again!” He commanded and Sansa followed through. She saw the men that held her down in that alleyway, felt their disgusting hands on her and swung again and again. Every swing he would take a step back and she would follow, “Vary it, don’t come at me with the same swing.” She changed it, coming up low then to the side, forcing him to curse and deflect her. “Again!” He said and she brought the sword down hard. He blocked it with ease, but not before it snapped in half. Sansa’s arms were shaking but Sandor’s eyes were focused on the raw splintered wood at his throat. His eyes flicked to her own they were hard and unmoving- so unlike the Sansa, he knew. 

 

Sansa didn’t know if it was from her force or his strength that broke her wooden sword but the weight felt better in her hand. She struck out at him again, this time hitting him with the point of the splintered wood pointing to his neck and his hand grabbed her arm before she did any real damage to him.

 

Sandor was sure she wasn't aware of the angry tears streaming down her face, only that she needed to get this energy out of her. She was panting hard, her eyes wide, making him stop. He felt a small shiver run down his spine at the anger rolling off of this small woman. Some sort of premonition, or maybe the fact that she hadn’t moved the raw edge of the wooden sword away from his neck, made him look at her in a new light. Cold wind blew against them stirring the loose tendrils of her auburn hair and his mind's eye saw in a black dress and wolves over her shoulder, snarling at him. He reminded himself she was of the North and not a small daft bird; ‘ _ Seven help who get in her way _ ’ he thought to himself.  Suddenly her eyes snapped to his silver ones, open and a little lost, “Sansa,” it was the first time he had ever said her name. Her chest heaved with unshed tears, her eyes softened again as she crumpled to the ground; loud sobs erupting from her. She dropped the broken sword into the ground and she fell to her knees.

 

The last time Sansa had heard her own name was when her Father spoke to her. She couldn't keep it in her any longer. The overwhelming amount of heartache and loneliness crashed into her, forcing a tidal wave of anger and raw emotion. She fell forward, curling in on herself crying and didn’t feel or hear when Sandor kneeled in front of her, but she did feel his warm hand rubbing up and down her back, tracing her spine. Sansa cried until there was nothing left but a pounding headache and pain in her body, a hiccup escaping her every so often. She wanted to feel the comfort of Winterfell again, she wanted to see the Child of the Forest again and be reminded of the magic in the world and the happy memories with her father. But she was in King’s landing and she just wanted to lay on the soft grass beneath her and sleep. She didn’t want to feel anymore.

 

Sandor waited patiently with her while she hiccuped and cleaned her face. She sat up on her knees and looked at him, “I… I…” he took her hands in massive ones and looked down at them.

 

“Little Bird. You were not made for battle on a field or against men like me or men like the ones that had you pinned in that fucking alleyway. Your battlefield is in the courts... not with a weapon in your hand. You’re a lady to your core.” Gently he gripped her chin in his hand, making her look into his eyes, “You’re not a buggering warrior, stick to being a lady and let me fucking protect you. I am your gods-be-damned shield.”

 

She shivered at his warm touch, so much softer than it normally was, “If you hadn’t come when you did…”

 

“Even if you had a sword they still would have pinned you.” He said.

 

“I could have at least done some damage.” she lowered her eyes, “I can’t be defenseless.”

 

He looked down at the splintered blade, “You’re not.” Releasing her hands he picked it up and held it between them; ‘ _ you will always have me _ ’ he thought but he said instead, “Daggers then.”

 

“What?”

 

“Sword’s too heavy for you and daggers are easier to conceal.” Sansa wrapped her arms around herself, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate the contact as much as she needed it. He started to reach out to her then drew himself back as if thinking better of his decision, 

 

“Come on Little Bird, to bed with you.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Erin_Bocca for editing despite a hectic life


	6. Virtuous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is some yuckiness in this chapter but we also get to see Sansa's relationship with Maester Pycelle and alas Bealish is as ever being a creepy bruh. Plus a Sandor surprise! 
> 
> ***Trigger warning-caroused oral/IMPLIED RAPE UNDERAGE****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some yuckiness in this chapter
> 
> ***Trigger warning-caroused oral/IMPLIED RAPE UNDERAGE****

A small but plump woman peered out from her hiding spot in the Godswood, she watched as The Hound knelt and took the Lady Sansa’s hand in his saying something to her. She had enough information to bring to Lord Baelish but wanted more. He was training her with a sword for some reason, she had no idea why a lady would want to learn such a thing. She got none when the Hound walked around the semi-circle they had been in collecting their items and putting his armor back on. Frowning she left before she could get caught. Lord Baelish would have to be happy with what she could collect. 

 

****

 

Sansa felt numb as he put back on his armor and picked up the broken pieces of the sword. Helping her up, she wanted nothing more than to cling to his warm arm as they walked back to her chambers, but she couldn’t everyone would suspect something more was happening than what actually was. So she stepped to the side of him as they walked back to the Keep neither of them saying anything until he opened the door to her room and they stepped inside.  

 

She watched Sandor go to his bed and put the swords under it. “I’ll step outside and let you change.” She nodded as he did, quickly she cleaned herself and changed into her evening shift.  

 

Sansa opened the door for him. “There is a clean towel for you by the washbasin. Do you wish for me to step outside?”

 

“No, not this late. Trant is off duty.” He watched a shiver of repulsion go down her satisfaction rang through him. Trant was more than just an asshole, he was a fucking predator more than once he had caught him with a maid pinned against her will. He bolted the door and started toward his side of the room again; Sansa settled down on her bed exhausted but wanting to watch him, wanting to understand the conflicting man that was Sandor Clegane. 

 

He took his armor off with practiced ease then his tunic came off. Sansa silently inhaled, his chest was covered in dark hair just as she had imagined and since he was not paying attention to her she let her eyes travel over his body. The hair went down from his chest tapering on his waist and below. Scars littered his heavily muscled body, she wondered at a star-shaped one just above the ‘V’ his hips created. She felt a hot flush run over as she imagined lower, “See anything you like?” He snapped at her from across the room, the low wall the only barrier between them. 

 

Her eyes flew to his and before she could stop herself she whispered, “Yes.” Surprise wrote itself on his face, his eyes softened and for once weren’t in his customary glare. Not for the first time, she wondered what kind of man he would be in bed, would he be sweet and gentle with his lover or hard and passionless? 

 

He smothered the softness in an instant, “Liar.” He said but she saw the corner of his mouth twitched up in an almost smile, it tugged at Sansa’s heart she’d not seen a genuine smile from him in months. He walked to the washstand that sat between their half of the room and used the last clean towel. She averted her eyes when he groaned at the cold water running over his chest and face but still blushed at the sound.

 

Sandor watched her through the hammered and polished mirror  _ she’s not used to a man being so close; mornings are going to be more difficult than I thought _ , he thought. He turned to her and leaned against the washstand crossing both his arms and his legs. Her innocence so damn addictive, he needed to change the subject before he pushed her down the mattress, “Why did you jump to Dran’s defense, it only spurred Joffrey on. You know that?”

 

She was silent for a long moment before speaking, “I told you I know the healing arts.”

 

“You could have fixed that?” he asked skeptically, she was lying. Or at least not telling the full truth. 

 

“Yes,” She whispered.

 

“How?” he demanded. 

 

“Needle and thread. Garlic for warding infection and a honey salve.” She couldn’t tell him about her gift yet, even as she stared at the scar over on the unburned side of his face. He didn’t remember anything about that day for which she was grateful.

 

“Need more healers like you in that fucking tower.” He let it slide, she would tell him the real reason in time, she always told him. Sandor gritted his teeth against the thought the two were closer than they should be, one word flitting through his mind:  _ Mine. _

 

Totally caught off guard she smiled and laughed at the compliment, “Thank you.” Sandor felt very uncomfortable at her smile, physically feeling his world get a little brighter. This level of comfort she had about her could make a man want more out of life than war and blood.

 

“Get some rest little bird.”

 

“Sandor.” He looked at her, liking that she forgot that she wasn’t supposed to call him by his first name. “I owe you something.” She slid off of her tall bed and padded over to him. ‘ _ Not here’ _ , he thought,  _ ‘not with the bed so damn close.’ _

 

“Not tonight little bird.” He said as she reached him.

 

“We have a bargain, and you have  _ more  _ than filled your end of it tonight.” Tentatively she reached out and placed her hands on his abdomen, his muscled contracted against her feather-light touch. She traced her hands on his sides and he felt the familiar unwanted laughter rising in him, he reached for her wrists but too late she had figured it out. “ _ Sandor Clegane _ … Are you  **ticklish** ?” _ Well, fuck him sideways _ . He didn’t answer her, only glared. She tickled him. Unwanted laughter burst from him as he stepped away. Sansa was only momentarily taken aback by the deep rich sound that erupted from him.

 

“Stop it!” He demanded though it was not nearly as angry as he had meant it with his laughter interrupting him. She didn’t listen and stepped forward.

 

Her fingers were fast and detected his sensitive ticklish spots, clearly she had practice. “Make me.” She said mimicking him from earlier, to bad for her he really was stronger than her. He snatched her wrists and pinned them behind her, the action brought them chest to chest.

 

“Don’t you dare breathe a word of this!” He hissed at her.

 

Guileless eyes stared up at him, “ _ What _ ? Tell everyone the Hound has ticklish sides? No that's simply too  _ delicious  _ to share.”

 

“No one,” he growled at her.

 

She was giggling, “ **My** big bad hound likes  _ tummy  _ scratches.”

 

“Shut it.” He said though nearly not as harshly as he should have and released her hands it hadn’t escaped his notice that she called him  _ her  _ Hound. Warmth wormed its way into him, he’d put that smile on her face and he thought to himself, it wouldn’t be so bad if he were her Hound alone. She moved again and to his immense relief she did not try to tickle him again, she did, however, place her hands on his shoulders and stood up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his. He was surprised after tonight that she would want to kiss him; then he pulled her towards him, cupping the back of her head and the small of her back. He pressed his lips to hers and she melted into him, Sansa sighed relaxing in his arms. This was as close to heaven as he was going to get, he thought.

 

He angled her head so he could access her lips more directly and felt her tongue playing at his lips. Groaning he gave her what she wanted, he plundered her mouth with his tongue, Sansa arched into him moaning in the back of her throat. He wanted her under him, the Hound demanded he claim her; mate her to him he knew he would ruin her forever, and knew she was willing in this moment. He took a step toward the bed with her in his arms she stepped with him and wrapped her arms around his neck her fingertips at his skull. He could feel her unbound breast between them and wanted to take what he knew would be a rosy nipple into his mouth and work his way lower. Her hands slid up and tangled further up in his hair, she pressed herself closer to him and a soft moan filled the room. He was beyond questioning why she was kissing him like this, only taking full advantage of it. The maester voice filtered through his head warning him, “ _ The King will want you checked once a month as you have Clegane as a shield… _ ” On a growl he broke the kiss.  She looked up at him her dilated eyes confused.

 

“Get some rest little bird.”

 

“But…”

 

“Your lesson has been paid for.” He snapped at her. She looked like she wanted to argue but nodded and released her arms from him as he stepped away from her. She slowly turned from him and pulled back the covers on her bed.

 

“Blow out the candles before you sleep will you?” She asked him meekly. He nodded and watched her climb into her bed and settle in for the night.

 

Sansa lay on her side thinking about their kiss, his twisted lips and moved expertly against hers making her want more, she supposed she should be embarrassed that she pressed her body against his. Something deep inside of her kept calling to him and he continued to answer her, she thought maybe it was just lust. Sansa was after all nine and ten and Sandor while nearly ten years her senior he made her feel … strange. She found herself simply thinking about him, imagining herself at his side. Imagining him smiling, imagining him dressed in a heavy fur cloak. She had told herself this was a lesson in duty and not lust...again. And again she found herself failing. Sandor still held her leash firmly in his hands and now she wasn’t sure she wanted it back. 

 

***

The next morning her maid brought her simple porridge and honey, as usual, she tried to give half of it to Shea. Shea, however, declined telling her she’d already eaten. She knew however that Sandor hadn't before she dressed she opened her door much to her maid's aggravation and handed him her bowl. “I know you didn’t eat.” She whispered to him. His stomach gave him away before he could deny it and he took the bowl gratefully. 

 

Sansa dressed in a blue gown before she was ready to go to the Maesters offices. When her father had been executed she had been listless, the Maester told the King she needed an activity to help her through such a time. The King told her to help the Maester much to the old man's aggravation. However time had proven them friends, and he had taught Sansa more about herbs and how best to identify them. She found when she inquired about anything he would happily answer her, so she had taken over making some salves for him as it filled her time and kept her from trouble.

 

Shea opened the door and gave a pathetic curtsy as she left Sansa. Sandor turned to her and looked her up and down when he didn’t bother to hide his plain lust she blushed wondering if he was aware of how he looked at her, how it made her feel. “Where are we going little bird?” He rasped, grateful she wasn’t wearing that damn red gown or anything else as tight.

 

“The Grand Maesters tower.” She answered. They walked to the Maesters quarters in silence, they were expected and therefore admitted immediately. Sandor was used to sick and death but the Maesters rooms walls filled with things in jars that he didn’t want to contemplate. Sansa went to a side door curtsied, “My normal room?”

 

“Oh, yes my dear.” The man stood and shuffled over to her. “I may have another project for you tonight but for now I need you to work your magic with those salves.” He took her hand gently and guided her to the room where she would be working. “Some of the ladies want different scents this month. I’ve got it written down in here.” He deposited them at the door of a room Sandor had never been in which was saying a lot as he’d been in a good deal of scraps requiring stitching.

 

Sansa smiled at him again and opened the door, “I’ll put the salves in the normal basket.” The Maester nodded and turned nearly bumping into Sandor, the old man merely grunted and sidestepped him.

 

Sandor followed her into the room and found the room well lit with a large window facing the bay. White shelves lined the room, one side with ingredients and waxes. The other with empty jars and baskets. The middle of the room was separated with a small island containing a small inlaid fire pit, pots and pans and measuring utensils littered nearly every other surface.

 

Sansa found the paper that the Maester had been speaking about earlier and scanned the list. Frowning she flipped the page over. “Hmmm…”

 

He was already bored. He made his way to the window and looked out the blackwater, keeping his eye on the door he watched her as she collected the ingredients needed for the first few salves. She worked diligently and to his utter amusement she hummed while she worked, it wasn't a tune he could rightly make out, but it relaxed him all the same. When he was young his mother used to hum to him when he was sick at least she did before the burn, oddly he found it just as relaxing now as he did then. Now as he looked at the redhead measuring herbs he wondered what would have happened between the two of them if he wasn’t disfigured. Which lead to thoughts of her humming to her children, he closed his eyes not wanting to think about her bearing Joffrey’s child. He didn’t know when he got so possessive over her but there it was, he wanted her in more ways that a tumble, he wanted to hear her hum to his own fucking sons knowing she would never abandon them like his own mother had him.  “What are you humming?” He asked her softly. 

 

“Nothing really, just a made up tune.” She said screwing on the cap of a new jar of salve, “I can stop if it’s bothering you. It bothered Arya all the time.” She labeled the jar in her tidy handwriting. 

 

Then Arya was a stupid she-wolf, he thought to himself, “Don’t stop.” Before she could respond he saw Petyr Baelish at the door staring at her. “What's your business Baelish?” Sansa’s head snapped up at his growl nearly dropping her newest jar.

 

“Please don’t mind me.” He said in his strangely hushed voice. “For once I am in agreeance with the brute, keep humming. You have a lovely voice.” 

 

“What is your business?” he demanded again stepping forward his hand falling to his blade. Yesterday his hands on Sansa had been unwanted and his touch even more so.

 

He ignored Sandor completely, “My Lady, I was wondering if I could have a word with you in private.”

 

“Lord Baelish, as I am sure you have already know Ser Clegane is my sworn shield as ordered by the King, this is as private as it gets.”  _ Good _ , Sandor thought,  _ she is unwilling to be alone with him _ . 

 

Baelish stepped into the room and shut the door, “My Lady, I have received word from your mother.” Sansa dropped her utensils and circled the small island.  Sandor intercepted his lady and extended his hand.

 

“Hand it over whoremonger.” He growled, Sansa stepped next to him as Lord Baelish handed over the scroll, “In the future Littlefinger all your communication will come through me.” He glanced down at the scroll before handing it over to the Little Bird, “It’s been opened.” 

 

She sighed as she took it and unfurled it reading it quickly, her shoulders slumped, “Seven hells.” Sansa spun around to read the note, again and again, looking for some code. Surely this had to be wrong! 

 

Sandor glared at Baelish, the small man gave him a smug look before gently hooking a curl of red hair around his finger. The gesture was so slight Sansa didn’t notice it, anger bit at Sandor, fighting to control himself he forced himself to remember Baelish was the master of coin and there would be consequences if he killed this man. Baelish bent and smelled her hair, a look of lustful bliss crossed the man's face. Sandor reached for his blade. “Keep pushing it littlefucker and I’ll kill you here and now,” Baelish released her hair as she turned looking between the two men; Pyter was far too close for her liking.

 

“When did you get this?” She whispered taking a step back.

 

“Not but a day ago.”

 

Sansa’s eyes were wide. “You should have burned this and come to me with the information verbally.”

 

“Do you want me to send a reply to your mother?”

 

“No!” She hissed. “Are you insane?”

 

Petyr bowed respectfully, “I imagine I am slightly, but please remember Sansa, my offer still stands.” He said and moved to step closer to her, Sandor pulled his dagger from his belt and tapped the man on the chest with the flat side.

 

“That’s close enough littlefucker, the lady has made her feelings plain.”

 

“Has she?” Lord Baelish looked him up and down with an appraising eye that made the hairs on the back of Sandor's neck stand up, “Until next time Sansa.” He bowed again and left her.

 

Sansa clutched the note in her hand. Sandor wanted to snatch the note from her hands and read it. Instead, he forced himself to go to the door and close the door finding it had no bolt he leaned against it. He watched her as she processed the information on the scrap of paper, she crossed her arms and traced her lips contemplatively with her thumb, “Little bird?”

 

She looked at him her eyes as cold as the glaciers beyond the wall and debated for a moment.  _ ‘Trust’  _ a voice demanded from her, it sounded like Bran and an older man she didn’t know. She looked down at the note and began to roll it up, surely she was hearing things now, Bran was in Winterfell. Sighing she looked back at him and for a moment he looked like a wildling, covered in wind chafed pelts a hammer at his back, a bitter cold surrounded her, his hair was longer and his beard thick and full. She blinked and the image was gone, the summer heat was back. Sansa had long ago stopped questioning the images she sometimes got, she figured it was another gift from the Forest Child, she handed him the scroll.

 

Sandor watched her eyes fade from their customary blue to white then back to blue in an instant but she didn’t seem to notice the shift. He took the scroll, he must have been seeing things, people didn’t just suddenly have white eyes. Glancing down he read the note; it was short and curt; Robb was refusing to treat with Renly- after Renly’s demand of a vow of fealty. He had also married and had thrown away a Frey alliance, her mother feared the backlash and urged her to flee with Petyr.

 

“Don’t go with him.” He said before he could stop himself.

 

“That is not what I am worried about.” She rubbed her temples.

 

“Sansa.” he strode the few feet to her and grasped her shoulders she turned to him easily, “With Robb refusing to treat he …”

 

“The Baratheons and the Starks have been allies for generations. How could he just throw away this opportunity?” She snatched the letter from him and went to the small fire, moving the pot of wax she lit the parchment on fire burning away any evidence of treason on her hands, he shuddered at the sight of the scroll going up in flames.

 

“Lust makes people do stupid things.” He said he should know.

 

“If it were just lust he would have had her in her bed and that would be that.” She waved her hand, “Lust is just a man needing to sheath himself in a woman. Once he’s had it it’s over.” She said.

 

He snorted, “That’s not true, lust can last a long time.”

 

She turned to him and cocked her hip crossing her arms, “It is. Men like Robb take what they want from a woman. No, he married her because he loves her. He’s not stupid.”

 

“Robb is what four and twenty? What does he know about it?”

 

“I don’t see  _ you  _ making any declarations of undying admiration and love to any woman.” She snapped and before he could argue she pointed at him from across the room; “Don’t hide behind your scars Sandor, if a woman loves a man she will overlook any physical issue.”  _ I would know _ , then reeled at her own inner thoughts. Where had thought come from?

 

“Men like me only get  _ affection  _ if we pay for it.” She blushed at that statement, even she was making him pay for her affections with lessons. But now she had started to look forward to the kiss more than the lesson itself, more often than not she rushed through the lesson just to feel his hands on her. “Life’s not like those songs you sing. There are no true knights and women don't  _ just  _ overlook a scar and a face as ugly as mine.” He snarled pointedly turning his scar to show his teeth and bone to her.

 

She frowned at him, he knew his scars didn’t bother her, right? “Anyone who loves you will overlook them, they won’t matter to her. She’ll just see them as part of your face like your silver eyes. She’ll accept you just as you come to her,” She repeated, Sansa stopped herself from going down that particular path. She would say something that the maesters outside could use against her or Sandor himself. “But that is not my point!”

 

“Don’t leave with him,” Sandor argued with her.

 

“I never agreed to it.” She resumed her task the Grand Maester had given her. Sandor glared at the window not realizing how much of the day had passed. For the next hour, Sansa made and packaged the last of her salves. The Grand Maester shuffled in as she was placing them in wicker baskets, a small maid followed him in. Her hair was tucked under a scarf her plain brown gown was covered with a greasy white apron.

 

“My Lady, could you help miss…”

 

“Janet.” She said not looking up.

 

“What can I help with?” She asked over the counter.

 

“I need you to brew some Moontea for her.”

 

“Moontea…, “ she said softly Sansa’s shoulders tensing and her eyes closing for the briefest of seconds. “Come here dear.” She brought the girl to the only stool in the room, “Did he force you?” The girl wavered, “You don’t have to say his name.” 

 

“...Yes. He bade to bring him a drink as I passed him. Then said I had to be punished for not bringing his shield one too.” Tears slipped down the small girls face. Sansa pulled the girl into a hug stroking her back soothingly. 

 

“Fuck,” Sandor muttered under his breath. The maid's eyes flashed at him then glued themselves to the floor. 

 

“I’m so sorry Janet. But I must ask you this question.”  the girl nodded, “Which was it the lord or the shield? Or was it both?” Janet shuddered. 

 

“The shield.” she sobbed out, “He said if he took me from the back it would hurt less.” The rest came tumbling out, “The lord just watched, he … he said it was practice for him since he was to be married soon he said… he said his shield needed to take a tight maid sos he could last longer with yourself your ladyship.” 

 

Sansa tensed her back going as straight as possible. She cast a glance at her shield and saw the anger roiling in his body felt it pulsating off of him, “I’ll be right back okay?” she then went about collecting the correct herbs and began to boil them. “Grand Maester,”  the old man looked at her, “Thank you for telling me.” He nodded and shuffled out of the room. Sansa handed her a cup of tea. “Drink this and lay down.” She said giving a small tight smile to the girl.

 

“How soon does it start?” She girl asked sipping the liquid.

 

“Your cycle should start as normal.” She handed her a packet of herbs, “The longer you let it sit the more powerful it should be. Drink one cup of this for three days to be sure nothing takes root.” The girl whispered her thanks and wiped her face.

 

“Thank you m’lady, the others... They wanted me to give you this.” She dug in her corset and pulled out a small paper and handed it over. Sansa took it with a nod of thanks and Janet left with her packet and hot tea.

 

Sansa opened the small letter, only two words were on the letter, “ _ Baelish knows. _ ” Sandor came up behind her placing one hand on her shoulder and read the words. He tensed his shoulders angrily, what had the man seen? Baelish could make their training sound like anything if he wanted and if he’d known about their one public kiss... He absently rubbed her arm, Sansa turned to him and looked up. “What are we going to do?” ‘ _ I’ll kill him _ .’ he thought, instead he took the small parchment and tucked it in his armor. 

 

****

Sandor escorted her back to her room and opened her door. She'd surprised him by not recoiling from his touch knowing what his damn brother had gone to a girl. Sandor had never been privy to the King’s escapades, likely the King knew that he would warn the Little Bird. She entered with him close on her heels. She waited until the door was bolted to tell him what the importance of the maid had been; “Sandor. Joffrey will come to me tonight.”

 

“What!?” he said surprised.

 

“He will and I ...I will be forced to … Just let me take care of him.” Sansa looked up at him, “Please, it is the only way.”

 

“They only way for what?”

 

“To keep my head on my shoulders and my honor in one piece.” 

 

“No, he’s not coming in here.” he said to her in a growl, “I’ll not let him fucking touch you.” the ghost of a smile touched her lips.

 

“Sandor,” she grabbed his hand, “please, if I fight him it will get worse, he’ll push it further.”

 

He squatted in front of her and grabbed her face in his hands and tried to ignore the way she leaned into his touch, her small hand coming to cover his, “I didn’t save you just for you to get raped by a cunt of a boy King.”  Before she could respond the a loud bang sounded on the door of her door and Sandor went to open it.

 

“Brother.” he glared up at Gregor.

 

“Move, the King wants to see her.”

 

“She’s sleeping.” He lied.

 

“Clegane.” She said from the bed, “Please let the King in.” She stood and placed her hands demurely in front of her. Gregor shoved Sandor aside sneering as he walked into the room Joffrey followed him. Sansa curtsied, “Your Grace. Ser Clegane.”

 

“I didn’t think you would be asleep, you never are.” He smiled at her. She cast her eyes to the floor and waited for him to continue. Sandor moved away from his brother not wanting to be near him. “You know what I want.” the King said lightly a smile playing on his too pink lips, “On your back.” He said.

 

Sansa was startled into looking up and at the King; “Your Grace, you promised me you would hold back your manly urges until we were married.”

 

He snorted, “It doesn’t matter,  I’ve been thinking … you’re a traitor's daughter. You should be thanking me that I am still willing to marry you. You’ll do as I command you!” Sansa took a step back needing to be closer to safety. 

 

“Please your grace!  _ Please,  _ you promised.”

 

“Get on the bed, on your back or I will make Gregor warm you up for me.” Sandor snapped his head up to look at his brother, a vile look crossed his face. “Would you like that? Maybe I’ll let him after I’ve taken your maidenhead.”

 

“Please your grace you promised me.” She reached out to him grabbing his hands and letting her fear show plainly on her face. “You said you wanted Robbs head in the room while you did it. Don’t you remember?” She whispered.

 

“Robb will be dead in a fortnight.” He cupped her cheek. “Might as well get the bloody business over now.”

 

“She can’t.” Sandor blurted out.

 

Gregor turned to him, “Shut it mongrel. Let the King have his whore.”

 

“No, let him speak.” The King waved his hands, “Go on Dog why can’t she? You’ve not taken her have you?”

 

“No,” he said flatly, “She bleeds. Saw her maid carrying the sheets out this morning. You wouldn't be able to tell the virgin blood from moonblood. No man should take a woman while she bleeds, your grace.”

 

“More blood the better,” Gregor smiled his vile black-toothed grin. Sansa’s eyes were wide with plain fear, this man had raped a girl of no more than three and ten just an hour ago and wanted to do the same with her.  

 

“You’re not fucking her, the King is.” Sandor snapped. Gregor started to draw his sword.

 

“Stop!” Sansa screamed at Gregor. “Stop it!” The three men in her room looked over at her. “My King, please don’t let your shield hurt mine. He is only doing the duty you assigned him.” She brought the attention of the King back fully to her and body as she knelt in front of him, “Did I tell you he stopped Lord Baelish from kissing me?” She stroked up and down the Kings leg. “You did such an excellent job picking out my protector for me I would be loath to lose him.” She pouted knowing it would work on him. 

 

“Stop you idiot.” The King snapped at his shield, “You’re scaring my Lady,” Sansa relaxed,  “The dog has a point. Every boy is taught to not touch a woman during her bleed and I want to see her virgin blood on her thighs. Not that disgusting blood your body purges from you.” he brushed one of his many heavy rings against her cheek, “What should I have you do instead. How will you keep me pleased?”

 

She reached to the Kings laces, “I could bring your Grace to completion.”  

 

“I like that sweetling. But your Dog lied to me, how should I punish him?” 

 

“He didn’t know it was you, your grace, he only saw his brother. You know there is no love lost there.” She lied, his laces undone she stroked him through his britches watching the swell of his member.

 

“Mmmm… you have a point. Dog!” Sandor gritted his teeth wondering if he could land a killing blow against his brother before Gregor killed him, “Watch her suck my cock.”

 

“Your Grace… should they not step out?” Sansa started.

 

“Do you want Gregor between your legs?” He snapped, “Your disgusting blood doesn’t seem to bother him at all.” 

 

She flicked a glance at the huge man and shrank back, “No.”

 

“Then your pet and his brother watch. Now do your duty.” She pulled out his member from his britches, stroking him before taking him into her mouth.

 

Sandor swore his teeth would crack from the pressure in his mouth. He forced himself to not scream as she bobbed her head up and down Joffrey's member. The King made a small panting sound, “Yes like that.” he groaned. Joffrey didn’t touch her while she worked his hands fisted at his hips, Sandor flicked his eyes to his brother who was watching intently making no secret of how aroused he was.

 

He felt sick to his stomach he wanted to close his ears to the small wet sounds coming from in front of him. “Watch her dog! Watch her or I’ll have your brother cut you up.” Sandor forced his eyes back to the scene in front of him. She did something that made Joffrey curse, “Stop.” he ordered and grabbed his member he stroked himself until he spurted his seed on her face. Sansa closed her eyes as the hot fluid splashed and clung to her cheek. “Stupid bitch,” he tucked his member back into his pants, he raised his hand to slap her for making him seem a green boy in front of the Clegane brothers. The sound reverberated through the room as she slid from her knees to her rear on the ground. 

 

Unable to stop himself from moving he knelt to his small change to steady her decent as gently as he could; as the little bird carefully she raised her hand to her now red cheek unable to stop the fat tears spilling from her eyes.  “I will see you tomorrow in court. Wear that red gown I keep hearing about.” he snapped at her. He turned from her and Gregor opened the door. “Make it last longer next time or you  _ will  _ have Gregor between your legs. The dog can have what's left of you.” With that, the King and his shadow swept out of the room.

 

Sandor moved immediately to bolt the door. Sansa stared blankly at the wall that separated his bed from the room, the King’s seed still clinging to one cheek her hand against the other.  “Little bird.” As if his voice snapped her out of whatever space she was in she stood up and bolted to the water closet and retched.

 

Sansa needed the taste of him out of her mouth, preferring vomit to the smell of him. What was left of her midday meal came up. When she was done she went to the wash basin and washed her face and mouth.

 

Sandor found a clean towel and handed it to her. “How often does he do that?” as she cleaned her face he yanked her into his arms. His large hand resting on the back of her head. He had no idea that she was being subjected to this, how much longer before Joffrey used his superior strength against her, how long before she was raped by her betrothed or worse his brother?

 

“Every time he takes a maid or watches one being taken. He likes to watch or be watched…  there is no rhythm. He’s never hit me like that before… ” he understood then why the Maester had brought her the maid she served as a warning for Sansa to ready herself. “Thank you.” She whispered.

 

“For what?” All he did was stand there like a fucking moron. 

 

“Lying about my moonblood.” She dropped the towel and wrapped her arms around his thick middle. They stood in silence for several moments simply holding each other before another knock sounded at the door Sansa flinched in his arms, waiting to hear a man’s voice on the other side of the door. Sandor successfully fought the urge to scream and went to unbolt the door, his hand on the hilt of his sword; Shea stood there with a tray of watery stew and bread for her charge.

 

“I saw the king leaving you.” She said sweeping into the room and passed Sandor ignoring him altogether. “Did he force you?”

 

“No,” Sansa answered Sandor bolted the door again. “He took his pleasure in my mouth and left, like normal.” _ Like Normal? _

 

Sandor watched as Shea’s knuckles turned white on the tray. He took the tray from her and set it on the table. “I don’t wish to talk about it.” She said sitting on her bed.

 

“I could talk to Tyrion.”

 

“No!” She nearly yelled, “No! Please, that will only make it worse.” Shea nodded.

 

She reached out and hugged her charge, “I’m sorry.” The younger woman hugged her maid back.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Will you need me later tonight my lady?”

 

“No. I think I would just like to sleep. Thank you, enjoy your evening.” Once Shea was gone Sandor sat heavily on the chair fitted around the small table, his head in his hands. For so long he’d been focused on Trant and himself being her biggest threats to her virtue, he’d thought the Queen had her son well in hand or at least the castle whores. But know he couldn’t get the image of her kneeling before the King out of his head. He knew she didn’t want to talk about it but he needed to know. Sandor looked up at to see Sansa still seated on the edge of the bed, standing he went to her and cupped her cheek noticing Joffrey’s slap would leave a bruise. 

 

“I will kill him little bird.” He growled, “Tell me how you want me to do it.” Sansa brought her clear blue eyes up to his. He traced the red mark on her cheek with his thumb, “Tell me and it will get done.” 

 

“Sandor… you can’t kill the King.”

 

“He  **violated** you.” He snarled. “He hit you.” She looked down and away from him. “When was the last time?”

 

“About a month ago. He is getting more persistent, more violent in his threats. I don't know how much longer I can fend him off.” 

 

“You won’t have too.” he rasped. “I swore to protect you little bird.” her hands gripped his cloak, “I swear he’ll never hit you again. If he does he’ll pay.” then he added, knowing it was petty but still needing to say it, “Don’t you dare wear that red dress tomorrow.” 

 

“I wore that dress for you.” She said looking up at him. 


	7. Lemon Cakes and Council Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse.... I will pay penance with a really long chapter....
> 
> Also sorry for typos I don't have handy dandy Grammarly here

Days passed without another visit from Joffrey and without a word about the damn red dress. He’d been struck silent when she told him the damn garment was for him.  _ Why? _ Why would she wear something like that for him? So he’d given her a hard glare and a warning to never wear the blasted thing again. 

****

Sansa and Sandor fell into a routine of visiting the Maester several times that week and training secretly, now mostly in her room. She was good, able to pull the makeshift dagger from wherever on her body and quickly. She no longer hesitated to thrust into an imaginary enemy every time she successfully executed his instructions he couldn’t stop his smile. He had stopped asking for the kisses, he didn’t want her to view him like she did Joffrey, even if she insisted she didn’t mind kissing him he knew she was lying to him, just like she had been about the dress.

****

On the day the rumors of Stannis fleet on the horizon became solid facts, he started to notice her worried looks in his direction when he snapped at her one evening for them she responded, “You could die Sandor. I don’t want that, you are the only person here I trust.” She’d said from her bed a thick book in her lap. He’d only grumbled his frustrated reply then ignored her for the rest of the night, she was making him feel  _ feelings  _ and he tried to hate her for it. But hate was hard to come by when the girl gave him half her food scares as it was in the city, when he’d caught her stitching his torn tunics, and when she was immersed in a book or deep in thought she had a habit of nibbling on the pad of her thumb. It was hard to hate what you found adorable. 

****

Sandor forced himself to keep to his duties during the day but at night, she brought conversation out of him, he found himself telling her funny stories with his training and the other soldiers. To him immense pleasure he found her sense of humor was more in line with his than with any other ladies he’d ever met. A consequence of growing up around to many boys he supposed. One night he made her laugh so hard she actually snorted, which lead to more giggling from her and flaming cheeks. Sandor had never seen this side of a woman, never had one so willing just to listen to him and be present with him.

****

She in turn freely told him about herself, he learned she loved to read lore and all things dragons. That she had a preferred scent of lavender to peaches and that she would never let him sleep without telling him some new piece of information she’d learned about Stannis’ incoming attack. He’d only recently learned he would be running in the Vanguard and while it didn’t scare him he hadn’t told Sansa yet. He didn’t want to see the dread in her blue eyes, she’d been alone for so long he needed to be here for her. When had this become so complicated, since when did he have feelings and when did they outweigh his duty? He no longer saw her as a highborn lady his inner hound had to conquer but a partner. On more than one occasion he’d overheard her chastising her maid over him, telling Shea,  _ “Stop saying that! You don’t know him!”  _ He never heard the maids retort but was sure it was something snarky. 

****

A week after Joffrey had visited her Sandor entered their room, still feeling strange about sharing a room with a high lady. He had expected female things all over her room and a general unruly mess but the only thing the Little Bird collected were books and thread. She was already tucked in bed her moon really upon her, and more than half a finished meat pie rested on the table for him. He didn’t like how little she was eating but she assured him she was fine and would be able to eat more next week every time he brought it up. He found she didn’t become grouchy or mean when her moon was near like Cersei but sleepy and filled with back pain. She had a cup of half finished willow bark tea next to her bedside, Sandor wondered if that meant the pain of her monthly was leaving her, for the past three days she’d drank the sweet tea nearly constantly but to his surprise never complained once. Sansa didn’t smell like blood, like some of the men complained their wives did, to him she just smelled like woman to him. 

****

One of her various thick books splayed open next to her, he glanced at it seeing it was some sort of lore on myths of the North he marked the page with ribbon and put the book on the table next to her not completely resisting to urge to cover her with her quilt. He ate the pie in a few bites and pulled off his armor wanting to lay next to her, he’d heard once in a brothel; that heat helped a woman during this time. Would the little bird like that? He snorted to himself, she’d likely wake up screaming bloody murder at his nearly naked presence in her bed. So, instead he went to his own cold bed and fell into a deep slumber.

****~~~~** **

“Sandor.” He looked up and was at a long table Sansa in front of him with a yellow pastry in between her two fingers “Go on try it.” She said more playful than normal and Sandor felt fuzzy and tired, but oddly content. Tonight she wore a grey silk dress and her hair was down, just the way he liked it.  

****

“It’s  _ lemon  _ flavored little bird.” He said pulling a face.

****

“It’s also cake.” She looked older, he thought, just a hint of laughter lines at the corner of her eyes. Her hips looked wider her breasts heavier her face a bit older, but just as sweet as when he first saw her in Winterfell.

****

“I don’t like cake.” he crossed his arms and realized he was in his tunic, the latest one she had mended, and not his customary armor.

****

“Liar, you stuffed an entire piece of chocolate cake in your mouth when you thought no one was looking. He’s learning your bad habits you know.” She smirked,  _ he who? _ Sandor wondered.

“ _ Chocolate _ is different.” He defended she leaned closer giving him a better view of her breasts, the dress turning to a thin white fabric, her body clearly visible through the material distracting him from his earlier question.

****

“Come on! One  _ tiny  _ bite?” She whined at him the scent of lavender invaded him and he welcomed it.

****

“Aren’t…” When he opened his mouth she stuffed the tiny pastry in it pressing his lips closed with her thumb. Lemon burst in his mouth surrounded by soft cake crumbs.

****

“There now you  _ have  _ to taste it.” Glaring at her he chewed it. “It’s tasty, isn't it?”  She said smugly moving her thumb from his lips.

****

He swallowed it. “I hate how right you are right now.”

****

“You just love cake.” She leaned over and kissed his temple on his burned side. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down in his lap taking her lips with his own. It had been so long since he had tasted the honey of her lips. She gasped as his tongue plunged into her mouth as he devoured her small sounds like a man starved.

****

Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck and responded in kind. She let him plunder her mouth his hand traced to her hair and pulled it making her head fall back breaking their kiss. She moaned shifting her body to straddle him, she ground up against him like she had done this hundreds of times knowing exactly what he wanted his hands felt her familiar curves as he gripped her ass. He traced small kisses on the column of her pale neck, “Sandor...” She panted. 

****

“Hmm…” He said not stopping his decent down her neck she wanted him he could feel her heat against him.

****

“Sandor!” she shouted and shook violently forcing him to snap his face up to hers. Her eyes were wide with fear and she screamed in agony. Her body twisting as her flesh was stripped from her body to skeleton then ash in his arms what was left of her scream was carried off the wind that now carried her ashes. 

****

“ **_SANSA_ ** !” He roared, he looked around him and he wasn't in their warm room. Bitter cold thrashed at him; whipping his black hair back and forth. Before him lay a tundra of ice, snow and a man. He had blue glowing eyes and old icy skin, horns decorated his head like a crown. The man reached out with his hand extending one pointed finger at him.

****

“Sandor!” Another violet shake and he was blinking awake in a dark room. His feet hung over the small bed and Sansa was looking over him, dark circles under her eyes- worry blatant in them.

****

He grabbed the front her shift and pulled her down onto the bed rolling her against the wall and reaching for his sword under his bed, “What's wrong? Where!” He was on his feet instantly. “Did Stannis make it here?”

****

“You were having a nightmare, no one is in here.” Her pale shift almost glowed in the moonlight as she straightened herself on his bed “Have you been feeling well?”

****

“Like fuckin peaches and cream.” He grumbled throwing the sword down with a clang. He sat down heavily on the bed pulling the pillow to cover himself glad he’d fallen asleep in small clothes tonight but the thin cloth wouldn’t hide his body's natural reaction to having her so close to him.

****

“Well, at least you have your sense of humor still in tact.” She perched on the side of his bed, the small divot her weight made in the mattress made him want to pull her closer to him. He wanted her flesh and bones in his arms, wanted her heat against his chest. He needed to reassure himself she wasn’t going to turn ashes.

****

“Have nightmares often?”

****

“Not like this one.” he never dreamt about ice, only fire.

****

“What happened?” She asked.

****

“Nothing.” He said.

****

“You are a terrible liar.”  _ Only to you _ . He thought. “How can I help?” She leaned against him, trying to offer him comfort. He took it, but he couldn’t pull her into his arms knowing where it would lead. He gripped the edge of the bed wanting nothing more than to pull her into his lap and take his comfort from her in the intimate way he needed. She slid her hand on his arm pulling his attention back to her face, “Tell me.”   

****

“My mother would lay next to me and hum.” He said suddenly then regretted it, she didn’t need to know his mother. It was the first time the woman had been brought up between them and Sandor held his breath-hoping she wouldn’t press him further.

****

“Did it work?” He lay back down under his thin quilt not wanting to answer her and forcing her to get off the bed.

****

She looked at him her face open and waiting for him to answer even as she stood, “Aye, it worked when I was a child.”

****

“I can hum to you if it makes you feel better.”

****

“Not a good idea little bird.” He said laying on his back his hands behind his head.

****

“If it helps you sleep…” Sansa lay down next to him and hummed some tune he was sure he had heard at least once. Too tired to fight her, he listened to her soft voice and fell back asleep.

****

It didn’t take long for him to fall back asleep. He’d relaxed at the sound of her sweet voice and turned to his side facing her as there wasn’t much room on the narrow bed; the only time she’d been this close to him was when they kissed. When his breathing evened out she reached out and brushed the hair from his face. She decided he was a handsome man even with his scar, he wasn't like the knight she thought was from her dreams. He still saved her all the same. 

****

With his face relaxed she could see the start of wrinkles that would age his face, war and rage she guessed had that effect on people. His arm wrapped around her and pulled her close to him nuzzling her chest and using her as a pillow, she stilled not sure what to do. This huge man was getting some sort of comfort from her, did he think more of her than just someone to kiss? She allowed her mind to wonder and the idea of being his lady was prevalent in her imagination; what would that be like? Would he take her to Clegane Keep? Would he love her eventually? Hold her like this every night? She knew he would always protect her she knew and his children, that prompted thoughts of what kind of father he would be. 

****

He shifted again and wrapped his other arm around her, caging her to him. He snorted in his sleep making her smirk, he would protect anything that was his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his blacker than sin hair and found she would rather be here than anywhere else, she didn’t remember falling asleep.

****

When she woke she felt warm and cozy; dawn was just cresting the black water. She looked around and saw a barren space and realized she was still in her rooms but on the wrong side. Armor sat on a chair on one side of the room, a chest filled the space next to it and the smell of leather and earth reached her nose. She tried to sit up and found she was pinned by a heavily muscled arm, Sansa hadn’t meant to fall asleep in his bed let alone in his arms. She tried again to get out of his bed only to find him pulling her closer to him and burying his face in her back and hair.

****

“Sandor.” She whispered.

****

“Mmmm,” he said sleepily.

“Let me up.”

****

His response was _less_ than helpful. “Little Bird.” He pulled her flush against his chest.

****

“We can’t be found in the same bed.” She managed to twist to face him. “They will kill us.”

****

“Then fuck them.” He growled opening his eyes. He blinked away the bleariness, his silver eyes focusing on her. He gave her a lazy lustful smile his missing tooth showing and Sansa’s tummy filled with butterflies at the look, it only took mere seconds for the tingling feel to reach her woman's place, “Damn good dream.” he pulled her closer and kissed her. His hard lips possessing hers demanding she give him everything and submit to his growing need.

****

Sansa gasped as he deftly rolled her under him and used his knee to spread her thighs. At some point in the night he’d kicked off his small clothes and she realized her was nude on top of her. Sansa reached up with the intention of pushing him away but she wound up clutching to him, missing his taste and smell around her. It has been too long since he pulled her into his arms and kissed her like this, like she belonged to him. He broke the kiss “Why the bloody hell do you have this on? You never have anything on in my dreams.” before descending lower yanking her shift down eliciting a squeak from her. Hot lips closed around her nipple making her jump and moan at the same time, Sandor froze above her and slowly released her nipple. Sansa slid her hand down between the two of them following the trail his body hair laid out for her; she found and gripped his massive member. Slowly she stroked up and down a small portion of him, not reaching his base -heat poured into his eyes making the silver molten. 

****

Suddenly a hand was wrapped around the bottom of her chin, “I’m not dreaming am I?”

****

“No.” She whispered almost afraid to move her chin even as she continued to stroke his member. Sansa saw the moment he decided to wrench himself from her, the moment he choose her purity over what they both so clearly wanted. 

“Fuck... Fuck.... Fuck!” he shot off of her and wrapped his blanket around his waist. Leaving her open and cold, her thighs spread on his bed. “What the  **fuck** are you doing in my bed?” Sansa caught her breath and pulled her shift back into place covering herself. 

****

“You were having a nightmare last night.” propped herself up on the bed and closed her legs,  “You told me your mother would lay next to you and hum to help you sleep. You wouldn't let me go.” She sat up and straightened her shift, hoping he didn’t notice her lack of small clothes as her moon had ended last night, “I must have fallen asleep.” Wide awake now and fighting with the heat his mouth had elicited from her she crossed her legs. 

****

“I don’t have nightmares.” He snapped.

****

“Why were you screaming my name in your sleep last night then?” She snapped back. He looked away from her, remembering how it felt to have her in his arms then for her to be nothing. He remembered the bitter cold and the icy man. Had she really come to comfort him?  _ Why _ ? He narrowed his eyes at her unable to hide his continuing hardness from her, her soft hand etched on the soft skin of his cock. Her hand wasn’t against the rules was it?  _ “Shut it Dog, you know damn well where that will lead.” _ he sneered at himself. Her pink tongue darted out wetting her lips as her breathing finally leveled out, and he wanted to groan-wanted to throw her on her back and take the other nipple into his mouth.

****

“Get back to your bed woman.” He snapped. Slowly she got up and went to the water closet when she closed the door Sandor dressed throwing the blanket on the bed willing his erection to go down. 

****

When Sansa stepped out he was struggling with his tunic. “Fucking....”  _ Rip  _ the sound of his tunic ripping made her turn her head. Smothering a smile she went to help he take off the fabric, she decided he was positively adorable when he was flustered and when  _ she  _ caused it. He stilled when he felt her hands.

****

“Let me help you.” She said shifting the fabric so he could slide out of it. “Sandor, calm down. Nothing happened. You snuggled me last night, that’s it. Honestly it was quite nice.”

****

“I do not  _ snuggle _ .” He gritted his teeth, trying to get the feel of her soft body under his out of his mind; she’d been half asleep dreaming about some handsome knight not him, she would never look at him in that way...yet she had gripped him and held his gaze while she stroked him.

****

Sansa nibbled her lower lip,  _ would that be such a bad thing? _ She wondered why her body responded for him, feeling heat and moisture flood between her legs. Given her musings last night she needed to look a new reality in the face, she wasn’t just in lust with him. Her eyes flicked down to his britches that were totally ineffective, “I can help you Sandor. Would you like that?”

****

“You’re not a whore!” he snarled at her, why was she making this so much harder? Why the fuck wasn’t she scared of him like every other lady in the keep? Why couldn’t she just scurry back to her bed and pretend to sleep until he could guard her door.  **_Why_ ** ? 

****

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and Sansa thought he looked even more handsome in daylight, his tangled black hair hung loose and over his shoulders and his beard had grown in the days since he’s sworn his sword to her. Sansa knew it was silly of her but she didn’t want him to cut it, she wanted him to grow it out like men did in the North. She felt her heart do the same fluttery motion her stomach had just moments ago. She had seen his bare chest before and now had slept against it, and she gave into the sudden urge to touch him, wanting to be closer to him.

****

His muscled torso contracted pleasingly as she slid her hand lower on his abdomen, suddenly her eyes were meeting his, “Keep it up Little Bird and I will be inside of your cunt before the hour is out.” he was pinching her chin again his face inches from hers and he whispered, “I’ll fuck you bloody in every hole you posses.” Sansa’s eyes went wide.  _ Every  _ hole? Was that possible? She splayed her hand across his rigid stomach, she wasn’t sure she could take him into her mouth as fully as she did Joffrey certainly his member wouldn’t fit **anywhere** else. Her hand relaxed against his stomach and her eyes dilatated at the pleasing effect it had on his muscles. 

****

Instantly, Sandor grabbed her hand and forced her down to the bed, he pinned her hands above her and kissed her hard, the passion and want that had been there moments ago was gone. He forced her legs apart and lowered himself between them Sansa wrapped her legs around him instinctively, “You don’t want this girl. I’m not some gentle fucking knight that you love so much. If you get into my bed again Little Bird; I’ll take your cunt first, then you’ll suck your own blood off of my cock.” Her eyes glittered up at him and dilated. “Then I’ll take your sweet ass.” He grasped her backside through her thin shift making her suck in a shuddering breath. “I’ll fuck you till dawn. We’ll both be dead within a fortnight once he finds out.”  he bucked his hips up to make a point making her gasp. He shoved off of her before ordering her back to bed. “Do you want that? Your head on a spike?”

****

“No.” she managed.

****

“Don’t you fucking understand he’s testing you and your loyalties… and mine.” 

****

“Sandor…”

****

“Go Now!” He roared at her, if she didn’t go soon he’d take her, then his head and hers would be on a pike decorating the red keep. She clutched his grey tunic to her body and went to her bed. She needed to shake thoughts of him before she went to the council meeting, she couldn’t afford to make a bad impression. 

****

***

****

Sansa stood in the throne room looking at the ugly iron chair, Sandor sighed heavily next to her. She couldn’t help but replay the feeling of his manhood in her hand and against her thigh. It had been hot and heavy and massive, the heady thoughts made Sansa rub her thighs together. She’d heard from maids that size mattered to a woman's pleasure, she’d also heard that the Hounds desires were enough to make any woman go celibate. She pursed her lips, she didn’t feel that way, not with him; he was the only man that ever drew any heat from her or drew out the wetness between her thighs. 

****

Realizing where her thoughts were going she cleared her throat and asked out loud, “Why would men fight over something so ugly?” Sandor, caught off guard by her question, barked out a harsh laugh. 

****

“Aye it is ugly isn’t it.” Sansa cocked her head assessing the ancient chair. “Power I suppose, men want it and every one of them is willing to die for it.”

****

“Don’t you want power?” She looked up at him. 

****

“No.” 

****

“What do you want?” 

****

“That’s my fucking business.” he snapped at her, she glared at him getting tired of his attitude this morning. He’d not given her a chance to speak, no chance to tell him about the burning need between her thighs, the one  _ he  _ put there. No, instead he threatened her like normal again as if it were _her_ fault he had her on her back and spread to him. He wanted her, she knew that now beyond a doubt. She wanted to push it, wanted to talk about this morning but every time she brought it up he snapped at her to forget it ever happened. Reliving the way his tongue had felt against her breast she had half hoped he would continue, she’d wanted him to move to her other breast. “You’re going to be late.” He glared back at her, but she swore she saw the start of his lips twitching up. She sighed and talked past the ugly throne and toward the small council chambers. 

****

Sansa tugged on the sleeve of her blue gown, she smoothed down the invisible wrinkles in her bodice. “Stop fidgeting.” Sandor snorted at her at her from her side as they approached the doorway.

****

“I’m nervous.” She said softly.

****

Sansa relaxed at the warmth of his hand on her lower back, she glanced up and saw his eyes were unexpectedly soft, “I know, and so will they if you keep fidgeting.” The small council chamber was one she had never been in and had never thought to go into even with the prospect of being queen. 

****

“Do you think Joffrey will be there?” she asked, he shrugged unhelpfully before opening the door for her. Sansa stepped into the room to see the Queen already bickering with Tyrion.  Sansa went unnoticed and took an unmarked seat. 

****

“You expect the Stark girl to have thoughts on the Kingdom?” The Queen said snidely.

****

“She’s to be queen Cersei. It’s not like your son has a vested interest in actually ruling. Someone has to between the two of them.”

****

“ _ If _ she marries Joffrey, she will never sit on the throne.” 

****

“She doesn't want to.” Sansa said from her chair, her hands folded demurely in front of her as the Queen snapped her eyes to her. “That is Joffrey’s place your grace.” 

****

“Lady Sansa!” Tyrion smiled at her, “Lord Varys and Baelish should be here soon. Maester Pycelle I imagine will be last.” Sansa nodded and sat quietly waiting for the meeting to start, relieved that Joffrey would not be attending. She didn’t have to wait long before the Spider and his counterpart Littlefinger arrived, soon Grand Maester Pycelle followed. It seemed they had all been aware of her requested presence as they took their seats. Grand Maester Pycelle to her left and Lord Baelish to her right. Sandor was excused and made to wait outside of the room, which admittedly made her nervous. Why would her shield need to be excused? She forced herself not to jump as the heavy door slammed behind him.  

****

“Well, as you all know Sansa Stark is here at my request.” the men murmured their ascent. “I wanted her here for several reasons chief among them Winter is here and there is a massive food shortage as we all know. But first, our cousin was sent back by Robb Stark with a message.” Sansa leaned forward, her brother had sent back a hostage? 

****

A small man entered the room a slight limp on his right side, Lord Baelish leaned in to whisper in her ear, “That’s Karne Lannister.”

****

“Yes I gathered that,” She leaned back and crossed her legs under the table. Before she or he could continue the Lannister cousin handed over the scroll that the Starks had given him. His eyes fell to Sansa and she studied him, he looked well fed and rested, at least her brother was not mistreating his prisoners. 

****

While the Queen unrolled the scroll and read its contents Sansa asked the cousin, “Are they treating you well? As well as can be expected?” She amended.

****

“Yes My Lady Stark,” he shifted uneasily, “He keeps all his prisoners well fed and warm at night sometimes at the complaints of his own men.” 

****

Sansa smiled, “That sounds like him, will you tell him I am doing well then?” He nodded as the Queen cleared her throat.

****

“He demands the return of his sisters, that's to be expected, as well as the return of his father's bones. Oh this is quite interesting,” She read directly from the scroll, “From this time until the end of time we are not part of your realm, but a free and independent of the North. That’s a nice touch don’t you think Little Dove?” Cersei ripped the parchment in two, “He has more spirit that your father I’ll give him that.”

****

“You’ve perfected the art of tearing up papers.” Tyrion said snarkily.

****

“A real talent.” Sansa added before she could stop herself. She reached for the wine goblet that had been placed in front of her and sipped. It was a cool bitter red, her favorite, Cersei glared at her. Nonplussed Sansa continued to enjoy her wine.  

****

“We can at least give them their fathers bones back as a gesture of good faith.” Tyrion said to break the tension between the two women. 

****

“My brother is likely to concede on at least my being here if your grace was to return by fathers bones.” Sansa said softly. “He’s an honorable man and will uphold my fathers agreement with our late King.” 

****

“Your brother is a traitor to the crown.” The queen hissed at her. 

****

“Maybe he is maybe he’s not.” Sansa said sipping her wine, “But the end result is the same your grace, Lannister men are dying and you have a way to prevent it.” The queen glared at her. 

****

“You dare to presume to know…”

****

“I don’t think the lady Sansa was saying anything of the sort Cersei. I think she was pointing out the obvious.” Tyrion came to her rescue. 

****

“Give the Stark boy my message cousin. Tell him he is welcome to try and take his sister from Joffrey. Tell him to come and bend the knee.” He nodded and then Cersei continued, “My brother, Jamie, is he well?”

****

“Yes your grace, they may have him captive but they have not broken his spirit.” 

****

“Good, tell him we are thinking about him and he is missed.” again he nodded, Tyrion wished him safe travels as the Lannister left the chambers. “Well little Dove? Thoughts?” The queen tried to goad Sansa into speaking before thinking. She looked down into her wine goblet doing the exact opposite, Robb was tired. He knew Winter was coming and Starks needed to be in the North for Winter, their bannermen needed to get back to their fields and bring in the harvest.

****

Suddenly she felt Lord Baelish's hand running up her thigh. Sansa forced herself to remain still, he was touching her because he could get away with it now, because she couldn’t react without making herself seem guilty too. After all she had chosen this spot when she walked into the room. 

****

“Your Grace. I think I need to hear the rest of the information before I can give you an opinion. What about the food shortages?” She addressed Lord Tyrion. Cersei scowled at her as Sansa lowered her hands to her lap and discreetly slapped Lord Baelish’s hand away. 

****

“Yes, the Reach is beyond us with the Tyrells siding with Renly. They have the food that is needed in King’s Landing and Renly has ordered it all be stopped flowing to us. Now that Winter is upon us I fear we may lose many people.”

****

“Or worse another riot.” Sansa said not bothering to suppress a shudder. Of all people in the room she was the one that had been attacked during the crisis. “Lord Baelish. How much grain do we have?” 

****

“Enough for a five year Winter Lady Stark.” he practically purred at her, but his answer still caught her off guard.

****

“Surely not for a million people?” She asked with her eyebrow raised. 

****

“No.” He answered, “I fear the common folk must build their own stores.” Sansa nodded outwardly but internally raged. These people called themselves Lords or Queens and they had not seen to their people? Winterfell had a mountain of grain at all times from everywhere in the North. Her father had been stocking it since she was a girl of two and ten. 

****

“As I can see it Renly is our greatest enemy now.” She said slowly.

****

“Have you forgotten Stannis sailing to us? Even now?” 

****

“Fear and hunger strikes deeper than any sword Your Grace.” Sansa said as Lord Baelish shifted and pressed his knee against her now, “Hunger nearly got Joffrey and Tommen killed. I don’t know much about warfare, that’s true, but I know Winter. The only thing that's true right now your grace is that the common folk out number us. There will be more of them in the middle of winter than us and when they have nothing to eat they will come for us.” She paused looking at Lord Varys who was nodding, he was the only one in the room from humble beginnings and therefore understood Sansa’s line of thinking best.

****

Lord Varys spoke in his high lilting voice, an effect of his castration as a young boy; “People and wolves aren't all that different in the middle of Winter. Meat is meat your Grace.” 

****

“And how do you propose we take care of Renly?” Tyrion asked, “Varys tells me he’s married Margery.”

****

“We know that Renly has yet to consummate the marriage however.” Varys put in. Sansa tapped her fingers against her knee, thinking. 

****

“Is there no way to sway Lord Renly? Perhaps give him Dragonstone over his brother?” 

****

“He’s claiming to be King, Lady Sansa.” Cersei said.

****

“But has done nothing other than wear a crown and hold court.”  Littlefinger said. “Besides a man with his ‘affliction’ shouldn’t be king.” 

****

“Agreed,” Maester Pycelle. 

****

“Joffrey told me,” Sansa said suddenly, “That he was going to put into motion sending Lord Baelish,” She nudged him away from her leg, “to treat with him. As convincing as he can be he would be the best to bring Renly to heel.” Cersei stared at her in open disbelief, however, she couldn’t nay say Sansa without making her son look like a fool. “It would bring the Tyrells to our side with their wheat and it puts Renly in his place.” Sansa finished her wine. 

****

“Joffrey told you this? Why? Why you and not myself?” The queen demanded.

****

“Why your Grace his Majesty and I have many conversations that are private. Just as I am sure King Robert and yourself did.” Sansa said demurely. 

****

“It seems your son is not a total idiot after all.” Tyrion said dryly, “I like it. Baelish, get a crew ready you head for the false king’s camp within the week.” 

****

“Well… if there is nothing else?” Cersei started to stand before Maester Pycelle cleared his throat. 

****

“Erm… your ladyship a letter from the Castle Black arrived this morning.” Sansa’s eyes grew wide as she took the proffered scroll, when Tyrion nodded at her she opened it and read it quickly. The blood drained from her face. 

****

“What does it say My Lady?” The dwarf asked. 

****

“It’s from Lord Commander Mormont, he says he needs more men to man the wall and to send supplies. Furs mostly. Cold winds are rising and the dead rise with them.” She dropped the scroll to the table. “He says the whites are back for the first time in a thousand years. He needs more help manning the walls.” 

****

“Northoners are a superstitious people.” the maester grumbled next to her.

****

“We are for good reason.” Sansa said, all eyes fell on her. She wondered if they often forgot she was from the north. “We have our reasons.” She repeated, “The North has not forgotten.” 

****

“Grumpkins and Snarks?” The queen teased her. “You Northoners are all the same. Praying at your trees and dark whispers of shapeshifters. Let’s not forget the giant wolves bey..” to late Cersei remembered it was she who made Sansa’s direwolf pay the price for Joffrey’s one scar. The look the younger woman gave her reminded Cersei of the icy winds of Winter itself. Sansa was not some silly little girl with the right name anymore, she had learned from everyone around her and was using it to play this little game. Her brother had stupidly given the girl more power in court by inviting her to the small council and her son had washed away any innocents. He’d beaten the naïve princess out of the woman and left a wolf queen in her place, Sansa just didn’t know it yet. 

****

“Your Grace,” Sansa stood up the rest of the Lords following suit, she delivered a perfect curtsy, “As I said, the North remembers.” 

****

****

While Sansa was detained in the meeting Sandor leaned against the wall waiting, as always, this was the boring part of his job. Usually he could occupy himself with dicing with the other men but now only a smallish stuffy man stood in front of him, clearly waiting for the main meeting to be over. He thought he knew this man, small beady eyes a rat like nose, where had he seen him before? Another lady and her maid passed by, “Mr. Lotin!” The older lady explained. “Why I haven't seen you in an age!” 

****

“Yes Lady Sumpter,” he said in a surprisingly deep voice, “Good King Robert brought me on as the royal jeweler. I’ve been traveling as of late collecting precious stones.” 

****

“Is that so?” Sandor was never so glad to be ignored in a time like this. Stones, who the bloody hell had times for stones? “May I see them? I am just dying for a new bracelet.” Sandor rolled his eyes as the jeweler brought up his case with a practiced hand. Hundreds of tiny jewels were on perfect display in neat rows. Lady Sumpter gasped appreciatively as she brought her hand up to her already jeweled throat. 

****

Sandor sucked on one of his canines, Sansa’s birthday _was_ coming up he got her something every year even if she didn’t know. Last year it was her book on the Northern Lore, this year? He knew jewelry was a bold statement, but hell hadn’t he made his wants obvious this morning? He had won 40,000 gold dragons at Joffrey's last name day combat, why not spend at least some of it. Soon a small flock of ladies had surrounded the jeweler, fawning and sighing over the larger stones. The jeweler was all too happy to make appointments with the ladies giving each a small parchment as a reminder, as the last of them drifted away Sandor stopped the man from putting up the case. “For your lady My Lord?” He asked before he looked up. The man snapped the case closed. 

****

“Open it. I’ve gold.” Sandor growled. He was used to this merchants turning him away especially fabric and jewelry, it just didn’t lessen the sting of it any, “And I’ve a lady to buy for.” The jeweler hesitantly brought out the case again and let Sandor have his look, his eyes fell to a yellow stone. Sansa would look good in his house colors, “How long for a custom piece?”

****

“For you my Lord Hound?” Sandor raised his eyebrow at him,  _ Lord Hound? _ “Depends on the complexity.”  Sandor pointed at the stone he wanted and asked for a slip of paper to help with the design. He quickly sketched out what he wanted. 

****

“None of that soft shit like silver, Iron. And a black ribbon.” He said giving the man back the sketch. The royal jeweler studied the sketch.

****

“A week my lord. I shall send the invoice around.”  Satisfied Sandor turned back to the door, “May I inquire who it is for?”

****

“No.” Sandor’s lip twitched. 

***

After the meeting, their day passed as normal with Sansa visiting the Maester again neither of them spoke but he kept catching her stealing glances at him. He knew she was upset with him for what he’d done to her, why wouldn’t she be he’d all but threatened to rape her and told her he would enjoy it. He hoped the necklace would be enough for her to forgive him.

****

But that didn’t excuse her actions; what was she thinking wrapping her dainty little hand around him like that, moaning like that under him.  _ The fuck was she after _ ? He thought to himself as he leaned against the window watching the blackwater. “The King put me in the Vanguard.” He said suddenly then raised his eyebrow when she dropped the metal spoon she was measuring with, the oils flying everywhere. 

****

“What?”

****

“When Stannis decides to show his face.” 

****

“No, you can’t be in the vanguard.” He heard the rustling of skirts as she came over to him. Her small hands gripping his armored forearm, finally he looked down at her, “Stannis has twice the men Joffrey does. You  _ can’t  _ be in the front!” 

****

“I’ve always been in the front,” He took her hands from his forearm, “Why do you even care?”

****

“I just do.” She took a step back from him, “I want you to be safe.” 

****

“There is no  _ safe  _ for me little bird, I’m a dog remember. All I’m good for is fighting.”  _ Between that and you I’ll be dead before I’m thirty _ , he sneered to himself. Her damn blue eyes were filled with hurt and tears, “Don’t give me that shit, none of your false curtsies now.” He said harshly then when a tear slipped down her cheek he gritted his teeth. What the hell was he thinking? Getting a woman like her a necklace, she’d read into it, and Sandor couldn’t have that. He couldn't afford to get attached, not when she wouldn’t reciprocate.  _ Then why do her tears bother you so much.  _ He said snidely to himself. _Fuck it all when did this become some fucking confusing._  

****

“I need a moment alone.” Sandor nodded and went to the door stepping out into the stuffy main chamber he stood in front of the door blocking the maester trying to give her new orders.

****

“I wouldn’t…” He warned the balding man, she was angry with him and no one needed to suffer her wroth other than him, he knew there was no way he could convince her he didn’t want to fight in this battle, not after this morning.

****

Sansa stared out of the large window, watching the waves of the black water become increasingly more choppy with the approach of a summer storm. Of course the King would take away her Hound, her protector, her bear of a man and her only friend in King’s Landing. She shouldn’t be crying over him, shouldn’t be feeling so emotional about him given the way he treated her. But she was, she knew he was so different under his mask of pain and rage and had glimpsed it. He could be kind and soft and genuine with her, maybe only with her. She wrapped her arms around herself and remembered the open look in his eyes from this morning, the vulnerability before the mistrust and anger in him slammed them shut. 

****

Someone had been whispering in the King's ear about her closeness to the Hound. She had no doubt that she had Lord Baelish to thank for this. Another reason to keep her tied to him alone and cut off from everyone else. He’d also likely poisoned the King into thinking that Sandor had already taken her to bed or wanted him out of the way to execute her. “ _ No, that wasn’t right _ ,” she thought to herself, “ _ Joffrey might want me dead but not Baelish. Baelish wants something else entirely from me, something he cannot have as long as Sandor is my shield _ .”  She didn’t know how long she sat there trying to out think Littlefinger but once she was satisfied;  _ “Yes _ ,” that was the only explanation she thought, “ _ the king wants him dead because Sandor is the only that can protect me and Baelish wants to bed me. “All because I look like my mother and think like him _ .” She shivered at the revulsion coursing through her.  _ Baelish _ , how did he think she would ever fall for a man like him? After what he had done to her father. 

****

Angry tears choked her throat, the King and Littlefinger taken everything from her; her father, her sister, her security, safety and now her Hound. Sansa walked toward the door her hand slid to the glass jars she was using to fill salve with she lifted the glass and snapped. Sansa hurled the glass toward the sturdy door feeling all to brief release as it shattered against the wood. The sudden burst of emotional release felt so good she picked up another and another hurling them at the same spot on the door. The anger that gripped her was one of pure desperation, that blonde bastard wouldn’t take her hound from her. Sandor should be a commander, not a common front soldier and not one killed by some unknown man. She gripped her skirts and screamed her rage into them, it didn’t help. She grabbed another glass jar. 

****

Sandor raised at eyebrow at the sound of glass shattering then her muffled screams. He knew the sound of anger but had never heard it come from her throat; it was pure hate and rage against  _ him _ , after this morning and now this she’d think he wanted to be in the vanguard. For once nothing could be further from the truth. There was a pause where he considered opening the door then another glass shattered, then another then another followed by another unfiltered scream.  

****

“She’s going mad.” The maester whispered. 

****

“No she’s angry.” the door was yanked open glass crunching as it did Sansa stood there in the doorway, her cheeks a distinct red color and her eyes bright with rage and her hair falling from its normally confined braid. The tower room fell silent at her appearance. 

****

“Maester Wern, there appears to be a mess in the stihl room. Please see to it and finish the salve orders. I find myself tired and in dire need of a rest.” She swept out of the doorway and around the men. Sandor fell behind her, her back rigid as they went through the tower, people parted in front of her; even the few kings guard. He wished she would just yell at him, throw those things at him, he could calm her down then; but when she was quite he suspected he was in deeper shit than could be explained. He could talk to her but now, now she wouldn’t even look at him. 

****

He was almost glad when they were summoned to a feast that evening with Joffrey who was in a better mood than Sandor had seen him in months. He stood next to his brother as his charge daintily sat on the edge of her chair next to the King. She’d changed from a pink dress to a blue silk. The cut was a low one and a size to small for her, he’d grumbled at her when she stepped out of her room but stopped when she leveled him a glare that would have frozen lesser men, for his part he just returned her glare. He shouldn’t have told her about his vanguard position, she was more than angry with him and Sandor found he didn’t like the feeling at all.

****

“My Lady.” The King greeted her his eyes roaming her freely.

****

“Your Grace,” She inclined her head. Sandor shifted closer to her. He could see her delicate shoulders moving under the silk, shaking with forced laughter at something one of the other courtiers had said. He wanted to hear her real laugh, wanted it to wash over him and soothe the tension that ran between them. He wanted her to smile at him again.

****

His mind inevitably went back to this morning.  _ What was she thinking laying down in my bed? _ He repeated to himself again and again trying to understand her motives. Gods he’d nearly impaled her this morning, why had she clung to him like that? Let him taste her body? It felt so good to have her wrapped around him, so right. She made him think she would like it with him, but that was ludacris -no woman liked it with him. Even the whores said he hurt them often refusing to see him a second time. He shifted again at the thought of her under him her very willing kiss soft body pressed to him the soft sigh she’d uttered when he’d pressed his knee between her thighs.  What if she  _ had  _ been thinking of him? Maybe….

****

Gregor whispered to him, pulling him out of the pleasant memory; “To bad she weaseled her way out of that last fuck, would have liked to have seen that one on her back teats bouncing. Wonder if she’s red between her thighs too.”

****

“Fuck off.” He snapped back not looking at his brother.

****

“C’mon even  **you** want a piece of that.” He sneered, “Legs spread wide stuffing your cock into her sweet tiny cunny. Only thing keeping that bitch safe is that boy.” He nodded toward the king.

****

“Would you shut the fuck up!” He snapped louder than her meant to. Sansa and Joffrey turned and looked to him. He gave a shake of his head and she turned back around recapturing the kings attention. Her hair had been styled the southern way leaving the back of her neck exposed. He forced himself to look around the room, hating how right his brother was. Sandor wanted to kiss that pale exposed skin, he wanted her on her back her long legs wrapped around him again. He wanted her screaming his name as he pounded into her, but ladies like her didn’t enjoy bed sport the way he did. Ladies like her wanted princes and soft lords not bruises and love bites in the morning. 

****

His brother laughed; a disgusting sound, “mmm, and the way she sucked …” Sandor turned to glare at his brother. He hated how much smaller he was that the animal he was related to. “What’s the matter little  _ brother _ ? Like the little chicky do you? To bad she’ll never have you with that ugly black burn.” He wanted to laugh in Gregor’s face, wanted to yank Sansa up and kiss her in front of everyone and claim her as his own, to show everyone how willing she had been this morning. Instead he glared around the room and noticed the King was handing her another cup of wine and more and more men were piling into the feasting hall. She let him kiss her on the cheek, giggling like a girl when he did.  _ I need to get her out of here _ , he thought as the ladies started to file out of the room.

****

“You’re grace.” She smiled. “You are to kind.” She sipped the red wine.

“What can I say I like you like this?”

****

“And how’s that your grace?” he pulled her into his lap and tried kissed her. Sansa took a moment to fall into her role and let him kiss her cheek refusing to turn her lips to him. Sandor heard his brother laughing at the scene, for everyone around them it looked like an innocent scene; a young king loving on his sweet fiancé, only he and his brother heard the kings words.

****

“At my mercy. I could fuck here and now and no one would stop me. Not even your sworn shield.” He reached down and tried to shove his way up her gown, Sansa deftly crossed her legs forcing him to remove his hand and settle for her thigh. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear, something he couldn’t hear but it made her eyes flick up to his. They were hot and dilated for a fraction of a second, then she slid back into her role as the Ice Princess.

****

“Would your grace like that?” She said touching his face, “For him to take me so publicly?” Joffrey made a sound in the back of his throat, “A few nights you wanted his brother to take me, would you like that? Watching me being taken by someone so much bigger than me?”

****

“It doesn’t matter, they’re both bigger than you. But yes.” He moaned. She took another sip from her goblet and tipped it to the king’s lips, he drank deeply. “Or both of them at the same time. I think I’d like that more.” 

****

“What about my maidenhead, don’t you want that? Don’t you want to be the first?” Joffrey shifted making Sansa rise on his leg. “Don’t you want my maiden's-gift? I’m saving it  _ just  _ for you.” She pouted prettily.

****

“Don’t worry love; I’ll fuck you first, then hand you over. Dog or Mountain you can take your pick after.”

****

“So generous.” She slid from his lap and said “But your grace will have to wait until my traitor brother is dead.” The king made a frustrated sound and moved to keep her on his lap. “Don’t worry,” She smiled at him, “You said that should be soon your very long wait should be over soon.” she whispered something in his ear that made Joffrey’s breath hitch. She stepped away and clumsily curtsied, “It is very late your grace. Please excuse me?” He nodded and turned to another man. 

****

Sansa turned at saw Gregor smiling at her, “Looks like we’ll be getting to know each other  _ very  _ well.” he said to her flushed face.

****

“As his grace demands ser.”

Sandor snatched his charge by her upper arm, she looked up at him and smiled her real smile the one he’d been silently wishing for moments ago. “Ser Clegane! Please help me to my room. I feel quite wobbly.”

****

“Gods girl you’re drunk.” He rasped at her.

****

“It was very good wine.” She answered. Sandor steadied her and helped her as best he could without carrying her. She openly leaned against him, her steps uneven. He opened the door to the hall, letting the cold air blast her hoping to sober her some.

****

She gave a little moan, “That feels good.”  

****

They walked a few feet letting the door slam behind them. She glanced back then stood up straight. He looked down at her, “That wine was awful. Far to sweet.” She yawned, her slurred speech magically cleared he realized that she’d only ever sipped the wine Joffrey had kept handing her. He mentally replayed all that happened just moments ago; she’d consented to have Gregor between her legs on her wedding night and the thought made him violently angry. Sandor pulled her into a tiny alcove shielded from the hall. He slammed her against the wall one hand protecting the back of her head, the other catching her face between his fingers.

****

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Gregor will kill you.” Sansa winced, “You really think he’ll wait now? No he’ll kill me and you.”

****

“Sandor...I’m not going to lay with your brother.” She grasped his vambrace fighting the goosebumps his calloused hands were giving her.

****

“You stupid beautiful bird. He won’t ask your fucking permission.”

****

“He won’t touch me.” Sansa had never seen him like this; his eyes were wide with fear and anger. She tried to tell him her plan, to ask him to run with her but as soon as she opened her mouth he cut her off with a snarl.

****

“Bloody hell girl. Don’t promise me shit.” He released her face, she didn’t understand; he stepped back just to snatch her wrist and dragged her to her room. Sansa had to jog to keep up with his long legs, when they reached her rooms she was out of breath and panting her door swung open and he shoved her in without ceremony.

****

“Sandor…” She tired.

****

“Just… go to bed.” He glared at her. She wanted to wrap her arms around herself and do as he bid her to but she needed to tell him that she had no intention of laying with his brother or Joffrey, she needed him to understand that she was playing the game that would keep her alive long enough for the Tyrells to arrive in King’s Landing. Long enough for the famed beauty that was Margaery Tyrell to catch Joffrey’s interest. He paced back and forth. “Is there any other way into this room?”

****

“Just that door and the balcony.” She whispered, his pacing was making her dizzy she reached out and stopped him. He looked down at her his long hair falling in front of his face. “He won’t touc…” Before she could finish Sansa found herself face down on her bed with both hands pinned to the small of her back. The feeling of cold metal and leather of his armor pressed against her back. She cried out in surprise, at the same time finding more heat pooling between her thighs.

****

He leaned over her body, “You think  _ me  _ fucking you bloody is terrifying? Do you?” he growled in her ear, his breath making her body tighten “Gregor will tear you in two just because he can. That’s what he did with his first wife and the second. Is that what you want? To be queen for a matter of hours then raped to death?”

****

“No.” She said, his grip on her hands becoming painful. She wiggled against him, telling herself she was trying to relieve some of the pressure and not to get closer to him.

****

“Stop it.” He snapped but pressed her deeper into the mattress with his hips, she felt his hands adjusting and for one brief moment the pain in her fingertips vanished only to be replaced by his hand in her hair; Sansa rubbed her thighs together to stop the hot wetness rising there. She knew deep down he wouldn’t hurt her, he would release her if she asked him to. She wanted to walk that edge of control with him wanted him to fall off that edge of control he kept so tightly leashed;  he spoke before she could finish the thought, “You are making my job that much harder. Now I have to protect you against my brother  _ and  _ the King. I haven't the resources to do either! Unfortunately I can’t sew up your fucking mouth shut.” She felt the rings of his armor against her bottom, “Do both of us a favor and stop playing this fucking game.” He released her and stepped back. Sansa slid to the floor not really understanding why her body was reacting they way it was, why she was so hot and wet or why she wanted him to do what he threatened to do to her this morning, “I should have fucked you bloody this morning.” She heard him mutter as went to his side of their joint room. She tried to open her mouth to explain what her plan was but no words ever formed.

****

He stripped himself of his black armor and flopped on his bed making it creak under his weight. Sansa waited until she heard him turn over and start to snore before moving. She rose from the floor and went to the secret compartment where Shea had stored her play toy in. It was the only way she knew how to rid herself of this ache between her thighs. Sansa held the velvet bag in her hands, she’d never done this with another person in the room. She’d never done this so close to her moon ending, what if there was blood on the sheets tomorrow?  _ What if he woke? _ She debated internally. She could be quiet, she always had been. The thought of his silver eyes watching her made her flush. Determined she blew out all the candles and stripped off her silk gown and shift. If he would torment her with his words and actions then so could she. 

****

Sansa slipped under the covers and played his words from that morning in her head.  _ “I’ll fuck you bloody in every hole you posses.”  _ She replayed how it felt to have him between her thighs his hard body over hers, his mouth on her body. Which lead to more thoughts of how he would look with his armor on and him between her thighs, she wondered if the chainmail would rattle like it does when they walk down the halls she wondered at what sounds he would make while inside of her. She recalled the way he had felt against her pinning her hands in just one large paw never hurting her. His grip telling her he was always in charge of their situation and to never question it. She blushed wondering if he would pull her hair like he did when they kissed, pin her to the bed and ruthlessly slake his lust inside of her. She blushed harder when she realized she wanted it.

****

She traced the swell of her breast and found the tightened peak, biting her lip and grasped her breast trying to imagine what it would feel like if her shield was gripping her. She traced her other hand down between her thighs and slipped her fingers between her folds. She circled her woman's bud feeling the wetness he created within her; hot shards of pleasure raced through her. Her knees drew up and her thighs fell wide, making the sheet slide over her naked body, exposing her to the blue moon light filtering through her side of the room. She rolled her hips knowing how to move against herself but wanting to hold back wanting the tension to build inside of her. She released her breast and pulled the small glass toy from the velvet bag and brought it to her woman's place. Pressing her fingers to her woman's bud she slipped the cool ridge glass inside of her and let out a small gasp. She didn’t notice the snoring had stopped.

****

Sandor woke when he heard the snick of a door, he propped himself on his elbow to make sure she was still in the room. The only light in the room was the moonlight filtering in through the windows, he watched as Sansa pulled of her gown and then her shift he sucked in a breath at her silhouette. He saw the outline of her breast the naked curve of her hips and her small waist; his hands remembered her body while they were training the soft fleshiness of his memory made his shaft grow painfully hard. She held the small bag that he had found in the compartment in the wall nearly a week prior when she turned to pull back the covers Sandor could see the swell of her breast and the dark shade of her nipples in the moonlight. He unlaced his trousers and pulled out his thickening member, remembering the way rear had wiggled against him earlier. He remembered the way she had pressed herself to him, her soft honeyed lips and her sweet heat between her thighs from that morning, the taste of her nipple. Looking down at his cock he stroked himself determined to stick to the memories and not look over at her sleeping form. She made a soft gasping sound and he looked back over, the sheet had slipped from her the moon light bathed her in shadows and soft blue light simultaneously. Her hand was at her breast the other between her wide spread legs. He watched her as she fished something out of that damn bag and slide her hand between her legs.

****

Sansa moved the toy in and out of her, teasing herself when her body was craving a deeper intrusion. Her fingers pressed her clit she rubbed back and forth furiously driving her body up higher. She let the toy slip in a little further enjoying the cold glass against her heat. Her eyes fluttered closed as she worked between her legs, her mind covering an image of Sandor over her remembering his weight on her body. She imagined his lazy grin that she had gotten from him this morning, his kiss pressing into her needing to possess her demanding that she yield to him in every aspect and she’s wanted to. She wanted to give him everything he desired, to please him, let him have full control over her body, mind and soul. She wanted to wrap her legs around his thickly muscled torso again and feel him thrust deep into her. Sansa pressed deeper enjoying the small ribs on the toy chasing her release.

****

He couldn't believe it, prim and proper Sansa was pleasuring herself with him in her room. His hand pumped up and down his length as he listed to her soft pants and frustrated moans. Drops of precum slipped down the head of his member; he watched as her head fell back and she arched up, she was close, her movements had become erratic and jerky. He felt his sac start to tighten.

****

She let one leg fall letting her have deeper access to herself, a ball of tension had made its home between her legs and she was edging closer and closer to bursting it. She arched her back as she rode the small glass toy between her legs. She pushed deeper needing more, unbidden thoughts of Sandor gripping his huge hand around her throat and squeezing as he pounded into her made her slip the toy in deeper she gripped the end of the toy and imagined how he would press into her, unknowingly she murmured his name. Sansa rolled her hips in time with the toy suddenly her body clenched around the glass, her hand flew to her mouth to cover the unbidden moan that slipped from her mouth. Her body squeezing the toy so hard it pushed from her. Her heart pounding in her ears she slowly returned to her moonlit room and prayed Sandor was still sleeping. 

****

Her leg fell giving him a view of her stoking herself. Her thrusts became more and more direct and pronounced, he stroked up pressing his thumb to his tip. With his free hand he shoved a bunch of his shirt in his mouth needing to suppress the sounds he was about to make. He watched her as she moved against her own hands. He watched as she slid her toy in and out of herself. Heard her cries of frustration and pleasured agony of being so close she whispered something he couldn’t quite hear it. She withdrew her toy and shoved it back. She let out a small cry her hand not covering the sound at all; simultaneously his hand slid down releasing the tip, wave after wave of pleasure assaulted him and his orgasm ripped through him. Sandor bucked and groaned into his shirt. His head fell back as he tried to catch all his seed, his heart was pounding hard in his chest as he panted. He’d stroked himself to the thought of her before but listening to her was different he shuddered again as a lasting wave of pleasure rolled over him. This was going to be hell.

****

Sansa pulled the sheet back over her as she hurriedly put up the toy. She’d never peaked like that before, never so hard she was dizzy and nearly fell asleep right away. She listened to Sandor shift on his bed and the snoring resume and felt annoyance stir within her. If she reflected on the feelings she would have recognized that she wanted to tease him and what better way than what she had just done. But Sansa was a lady and would never ever admit to such a devious want…. Even if she had just brought herself to peak with him in the room. “What the hell is wrong with me?” She berated herself. Throwing back the covers she found her shift and pulled it on then hid her toy from prying eyes. Despite the snores in the room Sansa fell asleep with ease.  


	8. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and a line is almost crossed.

Sansa stood in the opulent room, it was well lit with torches and open to the bay. It was her room and it wasn't, she was familiar with everything in the room but still felt like an intruder. She closed her eyes in inhaled deeply she could smell the cold winds on the breeze. Her family’s words coming to her, “ _ Winter is coming. _ ” She sipped from the gold and ruby encrusted goblet expecting her normal bitter red but found there wasn’t liquid in her cup at all worms and maggots squirmed against her lips trying to squirm their way into her mouth. She ripped the cup from her mouth and screamed throwing the cup down the bugs scattering everywhere. She started to retch; her hand on her stomach. 

****

“What’s the matter sweetling?”  Sansa spun around to see a naked Joffrey laying across a bed covered in red and gold, “Don’t you like my wedding gifts to you?” he pointed behind her.

****

“What did you do?” She asked shakily. 

****

“Only what a good king should.” slowly she turned and saw her father’s head on a spike, her mother and brothers next to him, even Jon. Arya’s at the end of the line, her sweet, angry, confusing sister. Agony overwhelmed her forcing her down to her knees as she cried out a sob. They were dead, everyone was gone leaving her alone and in the clutches of her tormentor. 

****

“I have something else for you too.” 

****

“Stop…” She said feeling weak she wrapped her arms around herself, “Please, just let me go home.” 

****

“I can’t have that, wife.” He said suddenly at her side handing her a large box, “Open it.” 

****

“Please don’t make me.” she whispered her plea. 

****

“ **Open it** .” He demanded a golden sword suddenly pointing at her stomach. Her hands shook as she gripped the box’s lid. She ripped open the box and threw the lid to the side. Sandor’s severed head sat in the box wrapped in a gold ribbon, his lifeless eyes staring back at her, his neck still held the jagged wounds of a battle and still bled into box. She screamed then felt the hot sting of Joffrey’s sword impaling her stomach. Sansa grabbed it with both hands trying to stop it from going further the sharp blade slicing her palms open. 

****

“No more Starks left now.”

****

Sansa bolted upright, cold sweat covering her body, hands grabbed she shoulders and instinctively she struck out making contact with a large solid wall of muscle. “It’s me little bird.” Sandor’s voice rang in her ears and she stopped struggling. Her eyes opened and searched his neck with wide eyes; his head was firmly attached to his body no hint of a scar or even a shaving nick. 

****

“Oh gods…” She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. His naked chest was warm as she pressed herself to him, “Thank you.” She whispered to the gods burying her head against his neck. 

****

Sandor was confused, he’d woken when she first started crying out bolting to her bed with his sword in hand thinking to kill whoever had snuck into their room. But there was no one only her fighting against her in dreams. He’d been reaching down when she came up from her prone position and seemingly into his arms. 

****

Now as he inhaled her scent of sex, sweat, and lavender he wrapped both his arms around her and shifted them so his back was against the headboard and she was sitting in his lap. Slowly he stroked her hair, “Nightmare?” He asked in an oddly soft voice. She nodded against his neck, “Do you want to talk about it?” surprising himself. She was clearly scared of what he didn’t know, but all he wanted to do in this moment was comfort her.

****

“No.” She said but all the same snuggling deeper into him. They sat in the quiet silence of the night Sansa gradually relaxing in his hold. He shifted when she started tracing unknown designs in his chest through the course hair. “Do you remember that day in the fields when I first came to King’s Landing?” 

****

He remembered it well, he’d forced her to look at his scars instead of the shy glances she’d been prone to stealing, “Aye I do.” 

****

“That’s the first time you called me Little Bird,” her designs continued, “I was so annoyed at first. I’d never been called a  _ bird  _ before.” He chuckled, “I was annoyed you yelled at me every time I called you Ser or My Lord.” 

****

“I’m not either of those things.” 

****

“I know,” she rested her head against his broad shoulders, “I know you're not. But you’re not a dog or a Hound either and I didn’t know what else to call you. You’re a man Sandor. The first man to give me a nickname outside my family and the only nickname I like. Well, the only one I started to like anyway.” 

****

“You would like it.” He snorted from above her.

****

“ _ You _ gave it to me.” She replied softly curling her legs between his and resting her full body against him. He continued to stroke through her vivid hair happy she’d not asked him to stop. Sandor rested his cheek against her forehead and held her. If it could just be like this forever, then maybe he would find peace in his lifetime, with her “In my nightmare Joffrey killed my family. Everyone.”

****

“Everyone?” 

****

“Even Jon.” He was about to say he was sorry when she continued, “Then he handed me a box, it had your head in it.” she said on a cracked voice, “He killed you Sandor. I know that’s why he put you on the front lines. I know it!” 

****

“I already told you there’s not shit we can do about that Little Bird.” 

****

“We could run.” she said looking up at him. “You and me. We could just run away.” 

****

“And how far do you think we would get with my scars and your fucking hair? We’d be hunted then killed when we were caught. I can’t get you to Robb that fast and it’s likely he wouldn’t let me stay.” 

****

Suddenly she shifted straddling him like she had done weeks prior but without his prompting, her hands on his shoulders, “He can try, Sandor. That’s all he can do. I won’t let him, you’re...”

****

“I’m what Little Bird?” 

****

“You’re mine.” she finished.

****

“Don’t start this shit.” he growled at her.

****

“Sandor, you’re my friend. I’m not letting you leave me.” 

****

“I’m your shield girl, not your friend.” He snapped.

****

“A shield came to me the instant I was having a nightmare?” She raised an eyebrow at him, “A friend who disobeys orders from his king? A friend who takes my breath away every time you kiss me? Even though you’ve been denying me? You’re in my bed now Sandor...” Slowly she reached out and touched his face. She expected his sharp intake of breath but not his hard hand on her arm.

****

“Sansa.” He growled. 

****

“Let me feel your face Sandor, please.” 

****

“Why do you need to feel it? It’s ugly and burned!” He snarled at her.

****

**“It’s yours!”** She yelled at him. Surprised, he released her and felt the pressure of her hands on his face. The first, other maesters, to touch his face since he was burned, her fingers were soft and delicate memorizing the odd grooves and dips that created the disfigurement. She traced around his eye where his eyebrow should have been and under where he’d only received small specks of embers giving him a pocked look. Her hands slid her hands to the back of his skull and tilted his head upward. Her lips crashed down on his, the fervor of her kiss brought forth a rambling confusion of emotions inside of him. Emotions he could usually shove down to the back of his mind, now she brought them up now. Forced him to confront them, reason with them. Her kiss, that normally tasted of passion, now tasted of desperation and need. She wasn’t flinching from his scars now even having touched them she wasn’t repulsed, he let himself be kissed and traced her sides settling on her hips. Finally she broke the kiss, “You’re not ugly Sandor.” She kissed a prominent puckered part of the scar. 

****

“Fuck me Sansa. You know this shit can’t work. We’ll both be killed, you know it girl. You know that you’ll be killed. And you know that cunt will fucking rape you first. Don’t ask me to watch you be violated again. Don’t ask it Sansa.” 

****

“I won’t. I know we have to stop. I know…” she paused, “I just don’t want to.” 

****

“You’re a bad liar little bird.” he rasped. 

****

“Stay here…. Just until I fall asleep please?” She didn’t give him much choice as she snuggled back against him. 

****

“Aye little bird. Until you fall asleep.” Sandor stared up at the black ceiling, pulling his little bird closer to him. She’d fallen asleep nearly instantly and he should get back to his own bed, should let it be well enough alone but couldn’t bring himself to give her up, not yet. He was baffled at why she continued to find comfort in him; he was mean and had a tendency to be unforgiving. But there was some unspoken truth between the two of them one that could mean life or death for them here in the capitol. 

****

Sandor wrapped one arm around her and traced her cheekbones with the back of a scarred knuckle, Gods she was beautiful; he wondered what it would be like to wake up to her every morning. What path they could take if that bastard cunt didn’t have a crown. Would she be willing to be Lady Clegane? Live in the Westerlands and give him the sons he wanted, keep his house and himself in order? He had no doubt she could do it, the question would always be if she  **wanted** to. Her delicate kiss on his face had been barely a whisper of sensation but to Sandor it was everything. For him it forced him to look into his emotions for her, examine why he got her the bloody necklace, why he sat here holding her delicate frame against him. He knew why, even if he couldn't say it even to himself. 

****

Even in the moonlight he could see her freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose, he wondered if they were so prevalent in the North or if her skin would turn to ivory. She scrunched up her face in her sleep and scooted closer to him tucking her head under his chin and snuggling into his chest, that strange warm feeling was back in chest and he didn’t know what to do with it. He knew what it was, knew the name of the emotion but his mind refused to accept that she actually liked him for him. But, what if she did? What if she genuinely liked his company and him- she’d never betrayed his trust when he told her deeply personal stories when he was especially drunk. 

****

He  **could** take her away from here, Sandor thought to himself, take her home to her brothers. With just the two of them he could out maneuver any search party. Then why had he told her no? “ _ Her brother, idiot _ .” he chastised himself, “ _ He would never let you keep her _ .” Even if he took her away from here he would demand his price, that whatever was between them continued to grow until she couldn’t be without him. Until she was dependent on him for everything, that would only be fair-he was already dependent on her for everything.  

****

“Fuckin’ hells Little Bird.” She didn’t hear him of course, pressing a kiss to her forehead he slid his hand into the only fire he would ever willing touch, her red hair felt like silk in his hands. His mind took him down a cruel path, snapping pieces together as her breathing evened out deepening her sleep. 

****

She claimed his scars didn’t bother her, and had given him that little speech about how his scars wouldn't ever bother the woman that loved him, but it could be a lie. It could all be a fucking lie.  _ “Don’t be stupid dog. The Little Bird doesn’t lie- she didn’t tell you she loves you. You’re her friend, nothing else. Her friend that kisses her and ... _ ” he stopped himself, unwilling to look at his emotions to deeply. “ _ It could never work anyway. _ ” he thought bitterly, the small woman in his arms would be shocked to her core if she knew his preferences. Sandor knew himself, once something was his that was it, it was his forever. And Sansa was the only person he had ever felt this way over, he highly doubted she would like to be possessed the way he needed to possess his mate. Yet she seemed inclined to let him take charge of every kiss they had had together, she didn’t fight him when he’d thought he’d been dreaming and licked her nipple. Hell she’d even offered to take some of his pain away for him without any mention of her own pleasure.  He should have let her take him in hand, let her dainty hand bring him to climax, how long had he imagined the feeling? How long had he wanted it and now that it was freely offered he turned it down? 

****

She never hid from him, she didn’t pull back from his touch, she didn’t cry when he pulled her hair … he wondered what she would do if he bit her pale neck. He traced the junction of where her neck met her shoulders, he would bite her here first; claim her. But first she needed to choose it open and freely knowing everything, knowing about his need to control and the violence he inflicted even in his love. She sighed under his fingertips and tilted her head back, “Sandor?”

****

“Still here Little Bird,” for the first time in a long time Sandor sent up a prayer to let her be his in every way as he fell asleep listening to her soft breathing. 

****

****

He woke in much the same position, one leg propping her up and her own arms had wrapped around his middle. It was just barely dawn with the sun barely breaking the horizon. She must have sensed his movement because she snuggled deeper into him not opening her eyes. “Little Bird,” she mumbled something he didn’t at all understand, she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

****

She gently reached up and ran her fingers through his tangled beard, he sucked in a breath but didn’t back away she’d touched his face last night, his beard was nothing. She gave him a bright smile, “Please don’t shave this, I like it.” He snorted.

****

“I need to get up, get to your door.” 

****

“Surely ten more minutes won’t hurt.” She yawned. He made to move being able to pick her up without any real strain. She stayed him by brushing his sides, his muscles contracted as she tickled him. The unwanted laughter burst from him as he fought to grasp her hands away from his sides, she was quicker than he anticipated and he missed her. 

****

He went petty and tugged her hair back, gaining a gasping whimper from her, her hands stilled instantly. “Damn it woman.” heat bloomed in her eyes… no... surely he was imagining it. “I told you I need to get ready.” 

****

“Do you? It seems to me that no one really pays attention to me anymore.” 

****

“Why do you think that is?” He snarled down at her. 

****

“My bear of a shield doesn’t know when I’m teasing him and thinks everything I say is to hurt him. So he’s in a perpetually angry mood.” she answered snarkily, had she just called him a  _ bear _ ? 

****

“You know where ten more minutes in your bed will lead.” He sneered at her, she didn’t flinch back. 

****

Sansa was nearly subdued my his glare and his tone but decided that he had teased her enough, it was payback time. “You don’t want me then?” She let her hands slide between the two of them tracing over battle hardened muscle and gripped him though his still unlaced pants, “You’re body seems to disagree.” she whispered. The fuck was going on with her today? “Last time you didn’t let me speak, you’re going to let me speak now.” She held him in her hands- a firmer grip than last time and Sandor was loath to give up the position, hadn’t he just been complaining about turning down her hands on his cock? He tried to snarl at her. 

****

“You…” he stopped on a groan as she slid her hand over the head of his cock spreading the moisture there in small circles. 

****

“Don’t tell me to stop this time Sandor, I want to do this. I know you have to be hurting, especially after the other morning.” 

****

“You want to suck my cock?” she blushed crimson as she slid further down on his lap and down his body. 

****

“Would you like that?” She asked softly, suddenly unsure of herself.

****

 Sandor, despite his better judgement, grabbed her arms, “Don’t.” he growled, “You suck me woman and I’ll fuck you. You’ll not get a choice, I won't be able to hear you scream stop.” He tried to sound reasonable but his voice came out in a growl. 

****

“I trust you. You wont hurt me.” she whispered, “May I confess something to you?” She asked stroking him lightly but blushing furiously. Intrigued, he leaned back again, relaxing, absentmindedly moving from her arms to rubbing her hip through her shift. Her damn blue eyes were filled with heat and staring down at him, just at him. There was no questioning if she was awake this time and who she was thinking about, maybe ten more minutes wouldn’t hurt...“I like how rough you are,” in a flash Sansa was on her back his torso between her legs two fingers at her mouth. 

****

“Suck.” he demanded, Sansa took his two fingers into her mouth and did as he instructed her eyes never leaving his as she carried out his command, “Good girl.” Sandor rasped as he took his fingers from her mouth and brought them between them. He deftly spread her lips and smirked, “You’re wet.” Sansa blushed but couldn’t bring herself to say anything as he slid two thick fingers inside of her, stretching her tight sheath, he cursed internally when she flinched slightly, he should have started with one finger. She found her fingernails digging into his upper arms, “That door isn’t bolted girl, will I need to cover your mouth?”

****

“I can be quiet.” She panted as he curled his fingers inside of her.

****

“As quiet as you were last night?” he found her special spot rigid and bumpy, “This that spot you were looking for last night girl.” Sansa sucked in her breath and moaned loudly. A purely male smile crossed his face as he covered her mouth with his free hand. “Grab me little bird, stroke me.” She followed his command managing to bring this thick manhood from the confines of his britches. 

****

Sansa stroked down expecting to find the base after only a few inches but snapped her eyes open when he trust the rest of his considerable member through the semicircle of her hand, “What were expecting? Your gods had to give me one gift.” She gasped as he pressed his thumb to her clit, “Don’t stop little bird,” she regained her focus as he stroked her relentlessly, his strokes were hard and fast adding to piling sensations between her legs. Briefly he released her mouth and yanked up her shift exposing her belly to him and began rubbing the tip of him member against it while she stroked the rest of him. He shoved his fingers deeper and Sansa burst. The sensations climbing over one and other making her scream into his hand, “That’s it girl,” he panted though her peak reveling in the way her body arched and her hips gyrated on his fingers. Sandor thrust into her hand while she peaked imagining her soft insides, the motion around his fingers clenching around his cock. He followed her over the edge of oblivion seconds later spilling his seed onto her belly. Sansa’s hand clapped over his mouth as he groaned out his release.       

****

Slowly she let her hand slip away from his mouth as he pulled his fingers from her body. His manhood felt hot and heavy in her hand and against her belly, he stayed hard through his release and after giving Sansa the opportunity to explore him with both of her hands. He shuttered every time she caressed him liking how he continued to thrust upward against her. Sansa’s eyes fell to his seed on her stomach, it didn’t disgust her like Joffrey’s did. No, instead she felt strangely cheated that the didn’t go further. Now all she wanted to do was kiss him and be held in his arms. 

****

He’d not intended it to go that far, not to spill himself on her. His intention had been to scare her into letting well enough alone but then she’d followed his commands with such ease, he wanted to see how far he could push it. He bent over her small form and kissed her softly. Sansa’s arms wrapped around his neck abandoning his cock as she kissed him back fervently. Sandor decided the next few days to push her slowly, to see what her boundaries were and how far she was willing to explore, he also decided that no matter what he was taking her from here. He would never let her marry that cock-sucking cunt of a King. “Stay there,” He rasped down at her. Pushing himself up from the bed he retrieved a washing cloth, dampened it and then came back to her to clean his seed from her. Maybe she didn’t love him, maybe she was just experimenting with him either way Sandor would take these precious moments and enjoy them.

****

“Sandor,” She drew her attention back up to her face again, “You heard me last night?”

****

“Mmmhmmm.” She flushed a deep scarlet and threw her arms over her face. “Watched you too.”

****

“Oh!”  Sandor sat down on the bed side and pulled her arms away from her face.

****

“Shut it woman. I liked the show.” That only seemed to make her blush harder. “And I want to see it again.” He leaned over her prone form and kissed her again, surprised that she reciprocated this one, “I’ll not take your maidenhead girl but if it’s pleasure you want I can give you that. Watching you peak is a damn nice sight.” 

****

“I think I want more than that.” She said then pushed herself to a seated position and forcing him back upright.

****

“I already told you that you don't know what your talking about there Little Bird.” He cupped her chin, “When I tell you I’m a rough man I don’t mean just on the battlefield or with words. I meant what I said, you’ll suck your maidens blood off my cock. And I will  **like** it.” 

****

“Sandor…” his fingers suddenly gripped her chin before she could speak further, it was the first of many tests he would put her through. Was she strong enough to combat him when what she wanted and needed was at stake? 

****

“Stop it girl! You and I both know you want to use my cock to get out of this engagement.” In the fraction it took her to narrow her eyes he felt the sting of her slap against his unburned cheek. Undeniable heat rose within him as he now stared over her left shoulder. His cheek was still stinging as he grabbed her and wrestled her to the bed, straddling her. She’d passed  **that** test with flying fucking colors.

****

“You asshole.” She struggled against him as he burst out into laughter above her.

****

“The Little Bird knows a bad word.” 

****

“ **_What the hell are you doing Clegane_ ** !” Shea’s voice rang out loud and clear. They both stopped and looked up to see her maid holding a tray of breakfast foods. 

****

****

After scrambling back and snapping at the maid- Sandor laced himself up and dressed as quickly as possible, leaving Sansa shocked on the bed in just her shift. How had that looked with him on top of her glowering down at the maiden, his pants unlaced. Thankfully he’d already tucked himself back in already. He rushed from the room slamming the door behind him. 

****

Sansa sat on the edge of her bed as he left their room. She wanted to scream at him, wanted to rail at him for not letting her speak, how could she make him believe she wanted this? That she wanted  **him** . How could she make him understand that she wasn’t playing a game with him. But then he would likely be claiming her maidenhood instead of fighting with his vambrace outside her door at this very moment. Shea spun on her the woman's dark eyes narrowed, “What did he do to you? Tell me now!” 

****

“Nothing!” she replied automatically then her maid slammed the tray down on the table, “Well nothing I didn’t want.” she mumbled. “Shea…” She fiddled with the edge of her shift and crisscrossed her legs fighting the urge to feel the still damp spot on her stomach, “I need to tell you something and you  _ cannot  _ tell Tyrion.” 

****

“Sansa,” Her brow wrinkled in concern. “What is wrong love. Did he force you? Are you okay?”

****

“Oh yes...I’m fine…” Sansa braced herself for the next words coming out of her mouth, “I need...oh seven hells why is this so hard, you’re my maid I should be able to tell you everything.” 

****

“Is it about your wrists?” Shea tapped the pale skin just below the purple bruises ringing her wrists. 

****

“Yes and no.” Sansa looked up into beautifully deep dark eyes, “Shea, I have so many questions I’m so confused and I think I’m starting to fall in love.” Shea’s eyes went wide as she took in everything her lady had told her. 

****

“With The Hound?” Shea almost shrieked, “My Lady! No no no, I’ve heard a few stories of him and his….how do you say...preferences. No one will go with him twice! Once Sheryl, a scullery maid, went to him for an evening, she came out bitten and bruised she was crying!” She snatched Sansa’s wrists, “He did this didn’t he? Did he try to force himself?” she asked again. 

****

“ **No he didn’t force me!** No he would never do that to me... I mean he did give me the bruises but I don’t understand  _ why I like it _ !” She said, “I thought... I don’t understand what my body is doing anymore! Every time he touches me I get chills and so incredibly hot I want to run into an icy lake. And when he’s rough...” she shivered, Shea grabbed her hands gently a small understanding smile on her lips. “He won’t ever let me speak. He tells me every time that I won’t like him.” 

****

Shea tapped her chin before speaking, “You know the risk you are taking? If you get caught the both of you will be killed.” 

****

“I know, I know I should stop but I  _ can’t _ ! I don’t want to!” 

  
“I see, I think I understand.” Over the course of the morning her maid educated her on what was happening to her, why it was happening and that she was in fact not going insane. Shea told her that some women prefer it that way, some women like it soft, some women like it not at all but what mattered was that she enjoyed herself. “No accounting for taste.” Her maid teased her. “Let’s get you ready. I have a plan to help you seduce your … puppy.” Sansa wrinkled her nose. “And I will speak to Tyrion about breaking this silly engagement.”  

****

“Joffrey will never let me go Shea, you can try, but he will never me go.”

****

****

 Sandor leaned against his charges door running his hand down his face. He refused to believe that she could actually want him, no one wanted him not even his own family.  It was so easy to forget himself with her, easy to forget the barriers they faced and the certain death that would happen if he took what he wanted. If he took her it would be forever, he wouldn’t want another man to even look at her the way he did, wouldn’t want another man to ever touch her again. He wanted to be the only one to hear her peak, wanted to be the only reason she did, he wanted her gasp imprinted on his brain for the rest of his life. But she deserved better than a possessive husband who snapped and snarled at everyone around him, she deserved some soft lord that would let her rule her home the way she wanted, not to be tied to him and to constant battle of wills.  She deserved a castle with as many children as  _ she  _ wanted, not the brood he had always secretly coveted. Most of all she deserved a happy fuckin’ life. ‘ _ She’s not getting that here. _ ’ he said to himself. No matter how much the Hound snapped the little bird would never be truly happy with him. He fisted his hand again and again, he needed to get the training yard before he hurt someone.

****

“Clegane.” The sound of Swann’s voice brought him out of his whirling self pity. “King wants Lady Stark in the Throne room.” 

****

“For what?” 

****

The knight shrugged, “Dunno but he’s in a worse temper than usual today. I don’t envy that poor girl.” 

****

“I’ll bring her.” Swann nodded, his job done, he went on his way to the Kings guard tower. Sandor opened the door to Sansa’s room finding her dressed in a blue silk gown he’d seen a hundred times, sitting at her vanity brushing her hair. Her maid gathered her sheets and gave him a small smirk as she left the room. What the hell was that about, then his eyes landed on her dainty wrists they were nearly purple. Seven hells he’d hurt her and the girl still let him climb into bed with her. He walked over to her and took the brush from her hands.  “Little bird.” He rasped at her, "I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have done this to you.” Sansa watched as he took her small hands into his. “I should have taken care of this last night.”

****

“How would you have taken care of it?” She asked confused but happy he was being tender with her after last night. Sandor brought her bruised wrists to his mouth and kissed them. Sansa shivered at his hard lips pressing gently against her bruises, he was unbearably gentle with his head bent to her wrists. “Oh…” She said softly. __

****

Sandor turned her wrist over and pressed a kiss to her pulse he felt it pounding below his lips. She hadn’t pulled away from him, he thought, even last night she didn’t turn away from him, hell she’d even kissed him. Then there were those fucking noises she was making last night. He kissed her other wrist and looked up at her and for one moment the world around them stopped. The world was quiet here with her in front of him. Sandor closed his eyes enjoying the brief moment of peace that he had found with her. He used her peace to shove down his want for her, for it had blossomed into something more than just wanting a tumble. Overnight it bloomed into him needing her love he wanted her love and would force a change within himself for her. 

****

He’d closed his eyes and Sansa wanted to tell him it was alright. He hadn’t hurt her. She knew he would never really hurt her, knew that if she told him to stop he would, but she wanted him to continue holding her even something as simple as her hand. He would always be a rough man but never an uncaring one; she wanted to tell him that she liked that about him, that she’d lost the battle to him for her heart, ‘ _ you’re mine Sandor Clegane, don’t you dare die on me _ ,’ she thought to herself but couldn't bring herself to say it; not after this morning. Sansa leaned down tilting his face up to hers she kissed him and prayed he wouldn’t snap at her again. She thought she should be confused, thought she should be angry about last night or even this morning but she wasn’t, there was only peace and safety with him. 

****

Surprised, Sandor clung to her kiss, her soft lips pressing against his hard twisted mouth, his hands found their way to her head pulling her closer for a deeper kiss. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders as he poured his unnamed emotion and want into the kiss. He didn’t know how to process such a tender kiss, given to him so freely. And so she passed his second test, he thought back to the lessons he’d paid for years and years ago on how to identify a willing life partner with his needs. Sansa was always sweet and tender and loving but even more so when he took care of her or an injury in had unknowingly bestowed upon her. 

****

She broke the kiss from his lips and pressed a sweet one to his forehead, no words needed to be exchanged and a thousand words needed to be spilled from his lips. He wanted to pull her in his lap and kiss her like that for an eternity, wanted her to kiss him back like that forever.  _ Fuck Little Bird I’m in love with you, _ he thought to himself. 

****

****

****

“Your Grace.” she inclined her head as Sandor escorted her to the dais in the throne room. 

****

“My Lady.” He inclined his head at her, “How are you enjoying my present that I gave you?”

****

Sansa glanced up and smiled demurely, happy she managed to not blush, “Very much your grace. I’ve never felt safer and it is all thanks to your thoughtfulness,” She noticed that Meryn Trant was present at the Kings side and twisted smile on his too plump lips, Ser Gregor stood as still as stone in front of her and Lord Varys and Lord Baelish stood to the side of the throne itself. She recognized the formality of the men in the room, they were standing what she knew was their official positions when court was conducted. She wanted to lean back into Sandor wanted to feel his hard chest against her back. Taking another steadying breath she braced herself, nothing good could come of this summoning.

****

“And how have you answered my thoughtfulness? By lying to me?”

****

“Your Grace?” She asked unsure of what he meant.

****

“Kneel.”

****

“My love…”

****

“ **Kneel** !” She did but slowly.

****

“Your Grace please I don’t understand…”

****

“You’re here to answer for your brothers latest treasons.” He snapped and grabbed a crossbow that she’d not noticed before and aimed it at her. Sandor moved to shield her, “Hold your brother Ser Gregor, make sure he doesn’t get in the way of her discipline.” He said almost lazily. Sansa stiffened as Gregor dragged a fighting Sandor from just behind her and away from her. Her eyes searched out his as he fought against his brother. 

****

“Get off of me cunt!” he shoved his larger brother off of him and tried to make his way back to his charge. 

****

“Make him watch.” Joffrey said from his place on the throne. Gregor grabbed his brothers shoulders and whispered something into Sandor's good ear he tried to elbow his brother but Gregor proved the stronger keeping him in place. Another whisper and Sandor went still. 

****

In a shaky voice Sansa spoke, “Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done I had no part you  **know** that! I beg you please...”

****

He cut her off, “Ser Lancel tell her of this latest outrage.”

****

A voice behind her spoke loud and clear she twisted seeing a golden haired knight, “Using some vile sorcery your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves.” Murmurs rippled through the crowd, “Thousands of good men were butchered. After the slaughter the Northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain.” Sansa seized on the most important fact Ser Lancel had just told the gasping court, her brother had won once again disgracing the Lannister's further, she covered her joy with a cry and turned back to Joffrey whose bow was still leveled at her. Forcing down a terrified laugh, she would happily die a thousand deaths to give her brother the win in this stupid war. 

****

“You said your brothers couldn’t turn into wolves.”

****

“They can’t. These are lies told to you.” She said calmly, “No man has that ability.” 

****

“Silence! Killing you would send your brother a message.” She glared up at him let him see her hate plainly. For a second he lowered the cross bow at her glare then he sighed, “But my mother  **insists** on keeping you alive. Stand. So, we’ll have to send your brother a message some other way.”

****

Sansa filled with dread as she stared at the cruel king, her chest rising and falling rapidly she waited for her punishment. “Meryn.” The knight stepped down and went to Sansa’s side she flinched trying to step away from him, “Leave her face...I like her pretty.”

****

She heard Sandor try to shove off his brother and she looked over at him. Gregor was struggling to hold his younger brother back as he tried to get to her. Ser Meryn turned her and punched her in the stomach, Sansa doubled over sobbing in pain, holding her belly when she heard Sandor roar. “Hold him back Gregor, don’t want him spoiling my fun.” Joffrey yelled. Trant drew his sword and walked around her, before she could turn the flat of the blade hit the back of her thigh. She cried out again, her hands moving from her belly to her thigh as she fell to her knees. “Meryn… my lady is over dressed. Unburden her.” Trant raced to her back and gripped the back of her dress, cold gauntlets pressed to her skin as the bodice of her dress was ripped in to forcing Sansa to hold up her dress. 

****

Metal struck metal drawing her attention briefly Sandor had punched his brothers helm off and had made a desperate attempt to run for her. Gregor caught him by the hair and dragged him back shoving him to the ground, “Look at that brother.” Gregor said kneeling on his brothers back, grabbing his face by the jaw, “Your poor little chickee is crying, you can’t save her like you couldn’t save …” she didn’t hear who as another blow rained down on her back she brought her hands to the back of her neck trying to protect some vital spot from any further damage.

****

“Stop please Ser.” She begged him but only felt his hand hit the back of her head sending sharp pain to her temples. She let out a screaming sob at her humiliation and pain nearly falling to her side.

****

“If you want Robb Stark to here us we’re going to need to speak  **louder** .”  Joffrey screamed from his place on the dais.

****

Trant raised his sword above his head “No!” She screamed the sound coming out as a sob flinching away from the cold metal throwing her arms up as a shield.

****

Sandor tried to shove his brother off of him again but he held him still, “ **Enough** !” He reached for his sword, intending on hacking his brother’s leg off when the courtroom doors flew open.

****

“What is the meaning of this?” Everyone turned to see the Imp and his sell sword walking down the length of the Throne Room, everyone parted for him as he stalked up to Trant, “What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?” He snarled at him. Joffrey looked from his shield to his uncle then back to his shield.

****

“Let him go.” He ordered Gregor. Sandor shoved his brother off of him with a glare he turned to go to Sansa when he heard his brother chuckle, “Can’t wait to see those tears when I fuck her.” Sandor turned around and struck his brother hard and fast in the face breaking his nose, the spray of blood flew from under his knuckles satisfying part of the Hound anger.   

****

As Gregor stumbled back his hand to his face Sandor went to his charge ripping off his cloak and wrapping it around her. Sansa thought nothing had ever felt so fine as the rough spun cotton around her shoulders, she gripped it around her shoulders. She could see the anger boiling in his eyes as his eyes landed on her tormentor; Trant responded to Tyrion's rhetorical question. His hand fell to his sword and Sansa gripped his leg.

****

“Please, help me stand,” She whispered, he gritted his teeth to stop himself from killing Trant here and now, and bent to help her up. As he gripped her forearms to steady her assent she gripped the lion necklace around her throat and yanked it off, letting it fall to the ground between them. He gave a thin lipped nod, everything was different now. 

****

“The kind that serves his king  _ Imp _ !”

****

Sansa didn’t recognized the next voice but knew it had to belong to Tyrion’s sell sword, “Careful now, we don’t want to get blood all over your pretty white cloak.”

****

“She’s to be your queen!” Tyrion hissed at his nephew. “Have you no regard for her honor?” Sandor stopped fighting every instinct to hold her close and pulled her to him wrapping her fully in his cloak to hide every ounce of her pale skin.

****

“Thank you.” she whispered, he expected her eyes to hold the distant look that she’d had after the alleyway, instead he saw nothing but anger. She wasn’t looking at him but passed him to the King.

****

“I’m punishing her!” Joffrey sounded petulant.

****

“For what crime? She didn’t fight her brothers battle you half wit!”

****

“You can’t talk to me like that! The king can do as he likes!” Joffrey spun around had sat on the throne.

****

“The mad king did as he liked. Has your Uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?”

****

“No one threatens his grace in the presents of the Kings guard.”

****

“I’m not threatening the King Ser. I’m educating my nephew” Tyrion said reminding him that not only was the Hand of the King but his uncle as well. “Bronn, next time Ser Meryn speaks kill him. That was a threat. See the difference?” Trant stepped back and Bronn smiled widely.

****

Sansa finally turned at Sandor's urging, she lifted her head and walked with Tyrion and Sandor out of the Throne room not turning back when Joffrey jumped out of his seat and demanded she come back she stopped and turned her head cutting him a sharp look from across the room. “Get back here.” He snapped at her. Sansa bit back the many retorts that would have had her killed. Instead she turned forward and stepped forward. 

****

Tyrion whispered to her, “I apologize for my nephews behavior.” Sansa didn’t respond. “Tell me the truth, do you want an end to this engagement?” She pulled the cloak tighter around her before responding to him.

****

“When winter comes Lord Tyrion, you won’t hear lions roaring in the cold. Only the wolves will howl in the wind.” She said softly turning down the corridor leaving him confused as he glanced back at the throne he saw Joffrey bending down and picking up something glinting gold. 

****

“Bring her back.” he screamed, no one moved to obey him. 

****

“You made a mistake nephew.” Tyrion said to himself. 

****

***

****

Sandor let her walk a few more feet before stopping her and sweeping her up in his arms. “I can walk.” She protested. He grunted as a response taking her to the Maesters towers wanting her cuts and bruises looked at, something applied to her skin to make them less painful. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his chest finally giving into the temptation to let him protect her. 

****

Maester Pycelle was waiting for them and had already cleared a table for her examination. Setting her down gently he told her he would be right outside of the room while she was examined. Closing the door to the room to give her privacy he wrestled the Hound back into submission, he wanted to kill Trant, wanted to carve him into small pieces and feed it to his damn horse. Stranger would like that, he was a war horse after all and in battle had been known to eat the flesh of his enemies. 

****

The maesters gave him a wide breadth as he seethed at her examination door plotting Meryn’s painful demise. Lord Varys, on the other hand, approached him directly, “I thought I might find you here.”

****

“What do you want?” He snapped at the eunuch.  

****

“Only to help.” 

****

“Help? Lot of help you showed in the Throne room.” He spat.

****

“I would like to keep my head, I’m very attached to it.” He said stepping closer to Sandor, “I would speak with her.”

****

“No.” He snarled. 

****

The door opened with Maester Pycelle shuffling out of the room Sansa followed still wrapped in his cloak, her eyes down cast and cheeks flaming. Sandor reached out for her not caring who saw him the healers tower, her eyes lifted to him, “Little Bird…” 

****

“I’m okay.” she said giving him a small smile, and taking his outstretched hand and eyeing the newly formed bruise around his eye. It would be swollen and purple later tonight, maybe she could fix it. She wondered how he would take it, her father's voice filtered back to her,  _ “only in life threatening situations. _ ” Steadying her breath she took a deep breath and forced herself not to fall into his arms.   

****

“The fuck you are!” he snarled then frowned when it didn’t have his desired result of her giving into his demands. Sansa was used to his grumblings now and knew he was worried for her. 

****

The eunuch cleared his throat drawing Sansa’s attention finally.  “Lord Varys?” She asked surprised to see him so soon after a council meeting.

****

“My Lady.” He bowed to her, “May I walk you to your rooms?” 

****

“Yes.” She said at the same time Sandor snapped, “No.” He glared down at his small charge, she cut him a look. 

****

“Yes my lord. Please excuse my shield. It’s been a trying day for everyone.” she said tactfully. They descended the many stairs of the tower before he spoke to her.

****

“My lady, Stannis fleet will be here in a matter of days, I know the queen has told you on where you will be until the battle is over.” He said softly, Sansa nodded her agreement as they reached her door. She knew it was a simple cover for conversation should anyone over hear them in the halls. 

****

“Please, let me change my lord then we can continue our conversation.” Sansa stepped into her rooms and shed her torn and tattered dress. It had been one of her favorites and one of Sandor's too. As she lay the fabric on the bed she sigh at the futility of an attempted repair. Without her maid present she changed into a new shift and wrapped Sandor’s cloak back around her. She wasn’t going to give up his smell worth anything now, she didn’t feel safe even with the Spider. As she opened the door and took a seat in the cushioned bench Lord Varys came in behind her and took a seat in plain view of a clearly overprotective Sandor. Sandor for his part remained at the door growling at anyone who came to close by, Even a small boy proffering a scrap of paper to him. Sandor sent him off with a bag of gold. 

****

Sansa tucked her feet under the overtly large cloak and waited for the spymaster to start. “I have news from across the narrow sea Lady Stark.” He pulled out two scrolls from his voluminous sleeves and set them on the table. “As I am sure you have heard that Daenerys Targaryen is moving across Essos with eyes on the Iron Throne.” Sansa nodded, everyone knew this, “She has tried to treat with your brother to no avail.” 

****

“And you suggested me instead.” Sansa answered, “I have no sway over my brother.” 

****

“My Lady, I know today has been difficult for you. But you need to think of the realm.”

****

“Lord Varys you must understand now that I will never marry him. I am tired and I just want to go to sleep.” 

****

“I know my lady. I received this piece of information last night...I wanted to tell you before the next council meeting.” He leaned in closer and dropped his voice so that only she would hear him. “I’m very sorry my Lady but Theon Greyjoy has sacked Winterfell and your brothers... “ Sansa stared at him wide eyed, “I’ve reports that Theon had them killed.” Sansa sat there is shocked silence. Her brothers, Bran and Rickon had been the last two Starks at Winterfell, just it boys. Bran a cripple no older than five and ten Rickon barely 9 years old. 

****

“I’m very sorry my Lady.” Varys said from somewhere in the room. Sansa pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders despite the heat, “Lady Sansa…” Tearfully she looked up. 

****

“Why would Theon do that? Why would he hurt two small boys?” She asked in a small voice. 

****

“Whoever controls Winterfell controls the North my lady.” Varys said softly moving from his seat at the table to one next to her. “Read the scrolls my lady. I think you’ll find them of great value.” he handed them to her. Gingerly she took them seeing one tied with the white ribbon of the Spider and the other the gray and white of her house. He stood and bowed leaving her with her misery. “I wish you both nothing but safety in the battle to come.” 


	9. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A semi tourney, stitching, and favors are given

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …. I have no good excuse

Sansa was sipping the sweet pain killing tea as she stood on her balcony Sandor's cloak wrapped around her gently fluttering behind her in the wind and setting sun. She’d expected to be a wasting mess of tears but the blackness of grief refused her. She was alone in her misery of the loss of her brothers, she could only pray that Robb came to his senses and spoke with the Dragon Queen. The North could be an independent kingdom if he supported her claim to the Iron Throne, 

****

She’d opened both scrolls after she’d given up on sleep, the scroll that had been Varys’s was a marriage contract and not from the Spider at all. It was from the Dragon Queen Daenerys Targaryen, she'd been in contact with her brother and he refused to treat with her, Sansa was now the Queens best alliance. Why would the spider give her a contract to marry someone else if he wanted her to marry Joffrey? The longer she thought about it she could only come to one conclusion, Varys had been telling the truth; he only wanted what was best for the realm. A lasting peace alliance between the Stark's and the Lannister's wasn’t it anymore. It lay in the hands of the Dragon Queen and the North. The alliance that had been promised for generations A Stark wed to a Targaryen; she couldn't marry the Dragon Queen but she could broker the alliance. 

****

The one page marriage contract while the name of her husband was left blank it stated plainly her husband would have to take her name and her children would bare her name as well. She wondered why the queen would offer such a gift to her if Robb lived she wouldn’t have any say in anything in the North. True she would be more sympathetic toward the queen but her home and loyalties were in the North. And Robb declared the North independent. Gods be good, if the Targaryen queen came to Westeros Sansa would be obligated to side with her brothers demands. 

****

It also seemed her infatuation with the Hound had not gone unnoticed by Varys and likely by Lord Baelish, it was only a matter of time before the King was told if he didn’t know already. Varys had used her apparently obvious feelings for her shield as a bargaining tool for the Targaryen Queen. To what end she didn’t know but the only logical conclusion was that Varys was serving the Targaryen Queen while he fed her information from the Red Keep. She closed her eyes as she watched the sun set over the bay understanding now why she and been unexpectedly examined by Pycelle, either Littlefinger or the Spider had requested it to be done. It seemed Sansa still had her maidenhead despite her and Sandor’s actions this morning.  

****

Inside Varys’s scroll there had been a smaller raven’s scroll once from her brother at the wall. It was addressed directly to her, she wondered how many eyes had seen it before hers. “ _ Sansa, the legends are true. Whitewalkers are real, I’ve killed one. Please get the King to send more men and supplies North. Please we need help.--Jon” _ A White walker? She thought back to the legends and scary stories Old Nan would tell her and her siblings. Stories of the Long Night, spiders the size of hounds, dead horses and dead men killing noble men and shepherds alike. Another scroll, two in a fortnight for a thousand leagues away. The legends really must be true. A cold breeze drifted past her, Varys thought it important enough to give her the scroll in the first place then the Spider believed it himself, and he was the cleverest man she knew. 

****

The final scroll scared her, scared her more than Joffrey or any other Lannister could. Her brother Robb named her successor should he and his heir die, a cataclysmically stupid move. She was betrothed to Joffrey, surely their mother had counseled against this move,  _ she  _ would have counseled against it. Or did he truly believe she would escape before that fateful day, or did he believe Stannis would win the impending battle? Or was her marriage supposed to be an alliance between the North and the Iron Throne? So many options and possibilities she started to feel dizzy. There was no good outcome to her being named heir to the North, if Joffrey found out then he would kill her or worse, impregnate her. The thought turned her stomach and she quickly took another sip of tea.  

****

Forcing her mind to the more pleasant news she focused on the one good thing she was able to determine form Robb’s declaration. He was going to be a father, after all this war he deserved to be happy. She didn’t know that his wife was pregnant, _ “That must be why he married her,”  _  She thought to herself and only hoped the Frays didn’t seek retribution against him. What if they did? Walder Frey was not known as a forgiving man. Her mind just as quickly abandoned the happy news and returned to the issue at hand. 

****

She didn’t want to be Queen she just wanted to go home. She wanted to have fat children and to wait out the winter in Winterfell. Now she had a responsibility dumped in her lap that was never supposed to be hers with three brothers the role of Lady of Winterfell should have never fallen to her. She wanted Sandor to hold her and tell her what to do. 

****

****

Sandor opened the door to her room to allow Shea in, she’d brought her charges dinner, he spied her standing on her balcony still wrapped in his cloak the sight making him feel that strange warm feeling again and worry. That feeling he refused to put a name to, when Shea stepped out of the room she told him, “I’ve only ever seen her like this one other time.” 

****

“When?” 

****

“When her father died before she took to her bed, she watches the water when she needs to think.” there was a silent pause before she spoke again. “I brought you a flagon of ale Clegane and managed to steal an extra plate of venison.” she turned to leave. He nodded his thanks, Sandor stepped into the room bolting the door behind him. She hadn’t moved from her position still standing at her balcony staring out at the blackwater. He went to the table and picked up his ale before joining her, he fought the urge to pull her into his arms instead gritted his teeth silently, other people could be looking down on them. Spying on them and he would not put her safety at risk.  

****

“Stannis will be here soon.” She said unexpectedly. “He’ll come over that horizon and lay siege to King’s Landing and you will be on the front lines. He has more men than we do, more ships and more right to the throne. And you, you will die and leave me forever.” the last was said on a cracked voice. 

****

“I won’t die.” he told her uncharacteristically soft. 

****

“He put you in the front to kill you.” She said finally looking at him.

****

“Aye, but I’m a big fucker and hard to kill.” Despite herself Sansa felt the corner of her lips turning up. “What was in the scrolls?” She pulled the scrolls out from under the cloak and handed them to him. He opened the first quickly reading it, the left corner bore the mark of her family crest, the snarling direwolf. “ _...I name my sister Sansa Stark my heir in the event of my and my heirs death.. _ .” he flipped the page, tidy neat handwriting greeted him and he didn’t recognize the handwriting. “The other?” She handed it to him. After opening it he read the passage information and simple marriage contract. He didn’t say anything, the thought of her with another man let alone another man’s child grated at him bitterly. He didn’t have a right to feel the way he did, but now after he’d started testing her no one else would do for him. “Who will you marry?” he said before he could stop himself, perhaps he sounded hopeful.  

****

Sansa cleared her throat, and gave him a very strange pointed look. Sandor found himself glaring out at the blackwater,  **of course** she  _ loved  _ someone else, she just wouldn’t say it, she was using him after all- just like everyone else. Her soft kisses had meant nothing after all, he’d damn near convinced himself that she wanted him. She had managed to lie to him after all, telling him that she wanted him. That she would see him under the scar under everything. Abruptly she turned and walked back into the room, Sandor took a drink from the flagon of ale in his hand before following her in. 

****

He replayed her willingness this morning, her small hands on his cock and her soft belly. He wondered if it was his sword or reputation she needed wondered which one she wanted more if she was willing to trade her virtue for either? She sat on her cushioned bench, and threw the scrolls down next to her putting her head in her hands. Sighing he gave up the internal battle and stood in front of her hands on his narrow hips. “Who is he?” He asked hating himself for wanting to kill the bastard, he should want her happiness. She’d suffered enough. 

****

The look she gave him confused him, her eyes were soft and open yet full of sadness, “Damn it girl who is he?” He snarled yanking her up from her seated position. She flinched and too late he realized he was gripping one of her main bruises, “Tell me at least if I know him.” 

****

“Not when you’re like this!” She tried to shove him away from her, “You’re scaring me.” 

****

“You said this morning I was yours.” He growled at her. 

****

“I did and I meant it Sandor.” she flinched when he squeezed her arm, on her left he squeezed a bruise delivered by Trant earlier that day, “I’m not talking to you when you’re like this.” He released her instantly. 

****

“Then go to your bed girl.” He snarled at her, Sansa narrowed her eyes at him.

****

“Stop it Clegane! You’re being awful!” He stiffened at her formality. It had been a great many weeks since she called him that in private, “You’re being purposely hurtful.” 

****

“Get your ass to bed  _ my lady _ .”  Sansa was so angry she wanted to slap him again. She picked up a pillow from the bench and threw it at him, he of course caught it with ease. “Stop it!” 

****

Angry, tired, and in pain again she spun on her heel and left him standing there with the pillow in hand. She was going to talk to him about marrying  _ him,  _ he’d just assumed that she didn’t want him. Sansa decided to let him stew, if he was going to be an ass about this then he could very well do without her affection for the next days. 

****

****

The next morning Sansa was up earlier than him, which was unusual for her. He heard her stir and step outside onto the balcony. Standing he grabbed his sword and went to the balcony thinking she had seen Stannis fleet. He pulled back the white cloth that provided a modicum of privacy, she was standing in the same position he’d found her in last night. Her thin shift transparent where his cloak had dropped from her shoulders and he could see her bruises, old scars that the king had put there. Seven hells he’d nearly lost it on her last night, she was right to refuse to speak to him when he was like that. Whatever her choice he needed to respect it. Sandor also feel the grudging need to apologize, and he knew that actions spoke louder than words. 

****

He cleared his throat, “Little Bird.” She turned her head telling him she was listening, “I’m going to the training yards, combat exercises for when Stannis lands.” She tensed, then he added, “Come with me.’ 

****

That got her to turn around, “Why?” 

****

“Don’t want you alone. Not after yesterday.” She offered him a small smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. She nodded and told him she would have to wait for Shea to show up. 

****

Sansa pulled the cloak tightly around her, the time it would take Shea to get to her rooms would do nothing to change what she had been thinking about all night. Bran and Rickon were dead, Robb was likely marching to his death being to much like their father and too proud to recognize help when he needed it. And Arya…  Arya was lost to her. She was the last Stark, Sansa closed her eyes to the rising sun. She needed to marry and it couldn’t be to a proud lord and not to the King by any measure. Sandor was her choice but he didn’t want her the same way she wanted him he’s made it clear he lusted after her but love? He’d told her he wouldn’t take her maidenhead, but then there was his reaction from last night. He was confusing her, she had tried to tell him her feelings but he was so angry all the time. 

****

Did the thought of her being with someone else make him beyond angry? While he let her go when she told him that he was hurting her that didn’t excuse his actions. She didn’t know if a man so broken inside was capable of such an emotion. The more she reflected on it the more she saw his potential as a consort; he was everything the North needed in a Lord, he was a hard mean soldier, tested and battle hardened, he was scarred, brutal, violently efficient, and most of all he despised the game of thrones. She just needed to determine if he loved her for her or wanted her lands and wealth, the thought struck her as wrong. Sandor was never as two faced as that. He simply didn’t know how to express emotions correctly and turned to violence immediately. Like a dog beaten on to many times to trust anyone. But she had never hurt him, never lied to him, and had even let him touch her. 

****

After yesterday he’d made it clear he wouldn’t risk anything. She knew she could lose her head for simply feeling the way she did, for who she loved, but she couldn't help it. Even if it would never be reciprocated.  

****

Sandor would never willingly see her harmed even if it meant never loving her, if it meant pushing her away forever to save them both. He was stronger than she could ever be. Sansa had come to the conclusion that she loved him yesterday while she stared at the parchment with the Targaryen dragon on it. He was the only one that would do, the only one that she would marry and love. She knew she sounded like a foolish love struck girl and maybe she was. But Sandor made her feel like a person, not a pawn as every other man in her life had. 

****

She’d wrestled with herself, how could she find herself falling in love when she was surrounded by the death of her family? But as she thought back, he’d been the only one there for her, carrying her away from the grisly sight of her father's death, from Joffrey’s wrath, from rapists, and from Trant.  She only ever felt safe when she was with him, near him. Her mother's voice filtered back to her, “ _ You’ll know when you are in love truly my dear when you can’t breath without that person. When your life is empty without them. _ ” Sansa took a deep breath, her dream had been clear enough. She loved Sandor and without him Joffrey’s gold sword would kill her, kill who she was inside. 

****

“Sandor,” She called out. She heard him curse and a clang, bringing a small smile to her lips at the surprised sound. 

****

“Aye?” He asked, she bade him to come stand next to her. He did looking confused. 

****

“I want to ask you something,” at his furrowed brow she continued, “Why did you defy the King’s order for me? Coming back for me in that alleyway?” 

****

He grit his teeth as he stared down at her, she knew the damn answer to that. The answer was wrapped around her shoulders now, “Doesn’t matter.” he ground out flicking his eyes around to the other balconies near them, two were occupied.

****

“Tell me.” 

****

“You’re the King’s betrothed. Can’t let you die.” He answered gruffly. 

****

“Say it Sandor.” her breath was coming to her rapidly as she waited for him to say the three words, as she watched his eyes filter through so many emotions she couldn't name them all. “Please…” She needed to hear it. Needed to make sure she wasn’t imagining it, make sure it wasn’t just lust driving him.

****

“I’ll be waiting outside Lady Stark.” He gave her a slight bow and she nearly cried out, feeling like her chest had been ripped open. She forced herself to not cry out as he left her, as she heard the door to her room slam. Sansa wanted to tell him her feelings, wanted to scream them at him but didn’t know if he would hear them how she meant them. He thought she was using him to get out of this betrothal, but she wanted him. She wanted to wake up in his arms every morning wanted his raucous snore in her ear every night for the rest of her life. She wanted that lazy smile in the morning, she wanted  **him** . 

****

****

After Shea had arrived she dressed in a pink gown knowing it was one of his favorites on her, she felt like a love sick girl. She supposed she was. A wolf helplessly in love with a scarred mean dog.

****

When Shea asked her if she would be needing her Sansa bade her maid stay and go with her to the training yard. Amongst the ladies it was common to bet on their favorite against each other, if the soldiers knew about it they had made no mention of it.  Sansa had never attended one of the informal gamblings but today she felt as it was worth it. She handed her maid five gold dragons, “Clegane, he’ll break Trant’s arm again.” 

****

“My lady that’s not a wise bet.” Shea admonished her. 

****

“Let me clarify, he’ll break Trant.” Her maid nodded and slipped away to place the bet with necessary party. Training was more of a way for the men to take out their individual aggressions against each other than actual training. As Sansa took her seat under the shade of the tree she noticed The Queen was present and idly wondered who she was betting on. Shea came back to whisper in her ear, “Your odds are low my lady. Everyone is betting on Trant or Swann.” 

****

“They clearly don’t know how much he hates Trant then.” She snorted. 

****

Shea took a seat next to her, “No they simply don’t know how much he loves you.” 

****

“I don’t know if he does…”

****

“He does, he’s just being a man about it.” Shea waed her hand as if it settled the matter. Sansa spotted him as soon as he entered the little field, he’d stripped himself of his armor and his tunic. She sucked in her breath at the breadth of his chest, the lady next to her cast her a sideways glance as Sansa leaned forward to get a better view of broad shoulders and toned back muscles. The only order to the chaos was the captain shouting pairs at every man that entered. No one listened. As soon as the captain stepped off the dias utter chaos reigned Sansa found herself trying to follow her shield but lost him in the fray, how could she lose him?  _ He was so damn big _ . Frowning she leaned back and found the Queen, Cersei had her eyes trained on the mock battle below; her wine goblet almost always touching her lips. 

****

On their raised rampart above the mock battle Cersei’s maid pointed out a staring Sansa, the Queen becond her to come forward. Unable to deny such a request Sansa stood up and smoothed her pink gown before walking to the Queen Regent. “Move.” She ordered another lady. Sansa daintily took the vacated spot. “Lady Sansa.” 

****

“Your Grace.” She inclined her head.

****

“At the council meeting,” the queen cleared her throat jumping right to the point, “The idea is a good one. How did Joffrey come up with it?” Both women knew it was Sansa’s idea but Sansa supposed it was the closest she would ever get to the respect of the older Lannister woman. 

****

“Your Grace would have to ask the King that. He simply told me one evening over dinner.” Seeing Sansa was unwilling to give into pride of any kind Cersei changed the subject.

“I suppose you’ve bet on your favorite?” The Queen ordered her a glass of the dry bitter wine Sansa was fond of. “Let me guess, Ser Swann? He’s a pretty sort.”

****

“No your Grace. I don’t bet, it is very unladylike .” She said easily. “I came here because this is the closest to a battle I’m likely to get. Call it curiosity or preparation.” She let the information flow freely knowing that Cersei would seize on it. 

****

“Do you want to see a battle little Dove?” 

****

“Of course not your grace. I don’t think I could handle the screams… or the blood.” She lied. Sansa well knew how to subdue an injured bleeding man and how to stop the bleeding. She had healed several of her fathers men after a small skirmish in the city and even tried to heal her father's leg. He didn’t allow it of course, it would be to obvious that they were hiding something if she had. 

****

“Tell me, the last time you were in this arena was when? When my late husband had his nameday tourney? Didn’t your shield take your father's last man down?” 

****

“Your grace has a wonderful memory.” 

****

“Mmmm.” Another sip, “I thought he would lose his eye for sure, but Maester Pycelle said you saved it? Tell me how.” 

****

Sansa smiled, “It’s an old northern recipe your Grace. Larkspur flower.” 

****

“Larkspur?” The queen shot her a look. Ever noble woman knew the meaning behind flowers so Sansa was not surprised when the Queen continued to press her. 

****

“And of course our famous orange lilies.”  as the queen opened her mouth the retort something waspish in her general direction a blood curdling scream sounded below them. The ladies leaned forward to see what had happened.

****

_____

****

Sandor picked up an imitation morning star in one hand and swung his wooden sword with the other. The false blade made contact with Trant’s temple forcing him to fall into Sandor’s trap. He swung the fake morning star and made contact with the man’s sword arm. Trant screamed. 

****

Dropping all pretenses of fair combat he dropped the weapons and kicked him to the ground, his actions were covered by the ruckus of the others ‘training’ and no one would dare stand in the way of the Hound and his prey. Sandor fell on Trant- grabbing the broken arm and finding the wrist bones he crushed them, “What the fuck did I tell you would happen if you touched her again.” He snarled.

****

“I was following an order!” Trant screamed. Sandor moved to the delicate bones of Trant’s hand. “Please no Clegane! I need my hands.”

****

“Aye you do. Should have thought about that before you struck her.” Sandor snapped back three of the fingers, then grabbed his upper arm and brought his elbow down on it. The resounding snap sent the man screaming as Sandor stood up snarling down at his prey. 

****

“Clegane!” The commander's voice called out. “You’re done for today!” He said ordering Sandor off the field. 

****

“I’m just getting started.” He snarled back.

****

“You’re done!” Grumbling he strode off the makeshift pit not bothering to pick up his weapons, once his booted feet hit the dirt he glanced up looking for Sansa. He found her next to the Queen. The little bird’s rosy lips were curved into a small satisfied smirk. He gave a slight bow to both women before going back to the armoury. That annoying warm feeling was back in his chest, her smirk had belonged to  _ him  _ despite their conversation this morning. He allowed his mind to wander down the path he refused to take earlier. What if she  **wasn’t** using him? She gained nothing from Trant’s injury other than satisfaction. That thought made him stop as he put on his tunic, would she have been just as satisfied if Trant had been injured or that he had done the injuring? Sandor snorted, as long as she forgave him for his stupidity last night he would be satisfied. 

****

_____________________

****

Sansa slid back into her chair and finished her wine. “Thank you your Grace. This was most entertaining.” She stood up and curtsied to Cersei as a frowning woman came up and placed a large bag in Shea’s hand. The Queen narrowed her eyes at Sansa’s obvious lie about betting, “I hope we can do this again sometime. I do find myself in desperate need of a  _ mother  _ figure as my wedding draws near.” She curtsied again and excused herself. When she found and met her shield she offered him a small smile as a thank you, wanting to reach out but stopping herself as a nearly limp Trant was carried by them. 

****

“Do you feel better?” She asked him softly as they turned to 

****

Their night progressed as normal, she reading silently as he fell asleep across the room, the turning of the pages now a sort of melody to him lulling him to sleep. Once Sansa was sure he was asleep she pulled the marriage contract from the secret compartment and went to her desk. Opening the ink well she took a quill and unfurled  the scroll, her heart was pounding in her chest. She’d not asked him if he even wanted this, but no matter what she couldn’t sway herself to any other line of thinking. He was it for her. So Sansa carefully wrote Sandor’s name on the blank spot on the document. Part of her wondered if he would be loath to give up his name, the other part of her knew he didn’t care without how much he hated his brother. She blew on the page to drink the ink and returned the document to her secret corridor. Tomorrow she would have to find a way to speak with him even if he was a grouch. 

*****

****

The day before her nameday she and a few of the ladies and Tyrion set out on a shopping trip below the keep. She had always been a black sheep amongst the ladies one for her Northern heritage and as to not provoke the King and receive the same treatment. As she stood with her shield and Tyrion she pretended to be looking at a piece of lace while listening to the conversation between Tyrion and Bronn. The other ladies were several stalls ahead of her, which suited her just fine. Tyrion had come along it seemed to have an impromptu meeting with her, regarding the attack. He seemed to have figured out Sansa was not in fact a shriveling flower and intended to use her brain. 

****

“The fleet will be here soon Bronn.” Tyrion said handing Shea some coins. 

****

‘Thieves are already in the dungeons.” Bronn said, “At least the ones we know about.” 

****

Sansa turned to the men and spoke before she could stop herself, “And the rapists?”

****

“My lady?” Tyrion looked up at her. 

****

“Men are distracted by two things: gold and women.” 

****

“The lady is right.” Bronn said scratching his cheek, “I could round up the known perverts.”

****

“Many of those men are soldiers.” Tyrion complained.

****

“So put them on the front lines.” Sansa said shocking both men. “It would not be a great loss to lose those men.” She swore she saw Sandor smirk from the corner of her eye.

****

“My lady I am not sure…” Tyrion started.

****

“Not sure I know what I am talking about? Should I remind you why Ser Clegane is my shield?” Sandor snorted next to her. “The North is different Lord Tyrion, girls learn battle tactics even if we don’t put them to use. But you  **should** meet the women on Bear Island. The little Lady Mormont could scare Joffrey.” Bronn barked out a laugh.

****

“I should get me a northern girl.” Sansa smiled at Bronn's admission, “Course that would mean settling down.” Despite the man’s vulgarity she liked him. He was honest and blunt much like Sandor only smaller. The fact that he came from a low birth and humble beginnings did nothing to dissuade her from finding him likable, Bronn was loyal to gold and of that fact he made no secret. 

****

“No strapping legitimate sons for you Bronn?” Tyrion asked.

****

“If the bugger could keep his cock in his pants longer than an hour he might have a chance.” Sandor said next to her, Sansa blushed at the vulgar language but the men burst out into gales of laughter. Battle was one thing, but cocks were of an entirely different matter. To hide her utter embarrassment she turned back to the lace vendor and spotted a fine strip of yellow cloth. When she picked it up she felt the softness of it and tested the sturdiness of it. 

****

“The yellow does compliment your skin m’lady.” Sansa looked up to see a young woman, “How much will you be needing for a gown?” 

****

“Actually, do you have any threads?” 

****

“Plenty mlady.” she pulled out a chest and let Sansa pick through the silk threads. The lady had purples and blues! Quickly she snapped them up as they were a rarity in the south, then chose her standard blacks, finally her eyes fell to a red. She picked up the threads and asked for a strip of yellow cloth a few inches longer than what she had.  The woman lowered her voice to a conspiratory level, “You know m’lady. Word is that the Lord Lannister is on his way. If you want to wed his lordship a red color would be best. I happened to have the Lannister red here.”

****

“The yellow is fine.” Sansa said taking the information the woman passed to her. She gave the money the woman was owed taking the small package. As she turned to resume her shopping a child ran in front of her making her side step or collide with the small boy. Right into a divot in the street. She over corrected and pitched forward, somehow snatching the boy as she fell. Her ankle screamed in protest and made a very loud popping sound. She and the boy landed hard on the cobblestone street. Instantly they were surrounded.

****

“I’m sorry m’lady… please call your men off!” the boy curled into a small ball covering his head. 

****

She tore her eyes from the thin boy as she was yanked to her feet. She hissed in pain as she was set down on her feet, “Are you alright?” Came a gruff whisper.  Sansa looked up into concerned gray eyes.

****

“Yes...Yes I’m fine. Bronn please help him up.” Sansa leaned against her shield her ankle protesting any weight at all. The sellsword brought the skinny boy to his feet. 

****

“M’lady I’m sorry I was chasin’ my sister.” Sansa smiled. 

****

“It’s fine, a tumble never hurt anyone. I used to chase my brothers everywhere.” That seemed to relax the boy, “May I tell you a secret?” the boy nodded eagerly and in a stage whisper she said, “I never caught them. Don’t tell them though.” she pointed at the three men around her, “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” He gave her a toothy smile and Sansa fished out a silver stag. “Go on now.” the boy took the stag from her, he rushed her to give her a hug. Then bolted out of the little circle of men. 

****

“Alright Little Bird.” Sandor said behind her, before she knew it he’d pulled her up into his arms on arm across her back the other under her knees. “Back to the keep.” Tyrion retrieved and handed her purchase up to her. Sandor waited until her arm slipped around his neck before making his way through the streets and back to the keep. 

****

Her lavender scent wafted up to him with every step he took, “I told you we should have stayed in the keep.” She laid her head against his chest, frowning at her lack of argument he pressed on, “Why didn’t you listen to me?” He snapped at her.

****

“Please stop growling at me.” She let her free hand press against his chest he glanced down and unconsciously pulled her closer to him needing her warm body against him. As they approached the keep Sandor saw the King with his entourage, he stopped out of habit and the King turned to his betrothed. 

****

“What happened to you?” 

****

“A misstep, your Grace. I moved as to not collide with a small child and stepped into a divot in the street. I fear my ankle suffered for it,” Joffrey’s face wrinkled up in a sneer and she braced herself for an insult.

****

“Find the child that did this.” He ordered the nearest Kingsguard knight. “Bring him to me.” 

****

“Your Grace it was an accident, nothing more.” 

****

“No one should be in your way.” He snapped, “You’re mine everyone should know that. Everyone should know their future queen!”

****

“He’s a child your Grace.” She reached out and cupped his cheek knowing it could bring down his ire, Joffrey so liked to be coddled. “You’ll see when your own sons run around the red keep. It’s a good thing children feel safe enough to play under your protection.” Mollified, Joffrey called back his knight. 

****

“Take her to her chambers Dog, see that she’s taken care of.” Sansa forced herself not to gasp as his fingertips dug into her. 

****

“You shouldn’t encourage him.” Sandor resumed his growling at her, “Just give him ideas.” He grumbled something else but Sansa smiled not hearing anything else, she had felt his hands tightened around her possessively when the King came near her. When his fingers had dug into her skin as she reached out to the king. 

****

“Sandor.” He looked down at her after he shouted at a passing servant to bring linen to her room. “I’m quite sure I can walk.” He didn’t let her down. “You’re jealous.” She teased him. He snorted as they entered her rooms and he put her on the cushioned bench. 

****

“You don’t know what your talking about Little Bird.” 

****

“Yes I do,” She tapped his armored chest, “ **You** are jealous.” 

****

“Stop it.” he snapped at her, “I’m not jealous!” his actions were at complete odds with his words as he gently picked up her injured ankle and placed it on his knee. He removed her slipper and nearly reverently soothing her ankle, like her wrists days past. 

****

“Just like you don’t cuddle?” He glared at her. “Or…”

****

“We already talked about this.” There was a knock on the door and despite his snapping he gently placed her ankle down and retrieved the linen from the servant who delivered it. 

****

“I could get a maester…”

****

“You think I don’t know how to bandage a fucking injury?” 

****

“Sorry m’lord.”

****

“Fuck off.” He snapped at the servant and slammed the door. 

****

“Sandor…” He glared at her as he sat back down and took her ankle again, “It’s fine.” He gingerly wrapped the linen around her ankle every once and a while grazing her skin with his calloused hands.  

****

“I told you to stop looking at me like that.” He snarled at her. 

****

“Like what?” She challenged. Huffing through his nose he stuffed a pillow under her ankle and stood up. He stalked out of their room and slammed the door making her flinch. He was angry at something she had done, or at her being her. Idly she traced the pattern on her dress and thought about his eyes. She loved him yes and had easily accepted the fact about herself but Sandor was used to being used. He was used to being praised for violence and slaughtering men, even she had sought him out after he’d used his skills to save her. 

****

That night when Shae came to her she requested a bath, once in the steaming water she turned to her maid, “Shea, how did Tyrion tell you he loved you?” Her maid stopped washing her back. 

****

“He hasn’t my lady. Men don’t say things like that easily, they show it instead. Especially ones used to pain. Tyrion….” she prattled on but Sansa was lost in her memories of Sandor kissing her wrists, restraining himself when they kissed, telling her of his nightmares, covering her with his cloak, willing to lie for her sake-something he hated above anything else, carrying her when she was injured, and now wrapping her ankle. He was never soft with anyone other than her. “Are you even listening to me?” Shea sighed as Sansa cast her a guilty look. 

****

****

On the morning of Sansa’s nameday, Sandor rose early as usual to find her still sleeping wrapped in his cloak, he wouldn’t take it from her, liking her in it more than he cared to admit. Her bandage around her ankle was still securely on her foot and he noticed the swelling had gone down. Satisfied he quietly put on his armor and stepped outside and waited for Shea. Instead the same small boy that had bothered him a few days ago approached him with a pink velvet box. “My Lord.” He gave a slight bow and offered the box up, “Iron like you requested and the yellow stone.” Once Sandor took the box the boy ran off nearly running into Shea.

****

“Scare another one did you?” She teased him, he grunted in response tired from his lack of sleep from the last three nights, racking his brain to try and figure out what her angle was. He knew she could never love him of all people, he was damn near ten years older than her and far more ugly. After Shea went into the room he opened the box and stared at the necklace, three perfect snarling dogs biting into the gem keeping it fastened and in place. Each dog eye had a chip of some sort of black gem in it and the Iron was polished to a high gleam. He traced the black ribbon, velvet. Perfect for his little bird.

****

“That her present?” Shea smiled up at him as she stepped out of her rooms.

****

“Aye.”

****

“She’ll love it,  also she would like to stay in her rooms today, but she’s likely to get a few visitors since it is her nameday.” It didn’t take long for the first of many to show up at her door a few with small parcels but more simply to wish her a happy nameday. Sandor simply stashed the pink box in his breast plate, he would give her the gift tonight when they were alone. She received everyone graciously and smiled at everyone but he could see the sadness that lurked behind her haunted eyes.

****

When the King arrived she set aside her stitching and curtsied despite her ankle being in a bandage. Ser Gregor as ever stood behind him his nose swollen and fat, “You’re looking well for your age My Lady.” Gregor made a move toward him and Sansa’s voice rang out clear above Joffrey’s comment. 

****

“Ser Clegane,” Gregor looked down his nose at her, “Please  **sit** .” She said it as she would give a command to a dog. Joffrey snickered next to her, Gregor abandoned his brother and sat heavily on a wooden chair. 

****

‘See, I told you she will make a good queen.” Joffrey smiled at his shield. 

****

“The girls mouth is going to get her killed.” He snapped.

****

“I believe shields are supposed to be silent.” Sansa crossed her legs the bandage thankfully covered by her gown and glared at him, “Did my Hound hit you so hard you have forgotten your duties ser? Seems I have the better Clegane brother.” She said the last softly, her eyes flickering up to Sandor then quickly averted them back to the king. 

****

Joffrey broke out into an ugly laugh, “You’re very funny my lady!” 

****

“Thank you, your grace. I am so thankful you have found the time to come see me with your busy schedule.” 

****

“Yes even a lack-wit like you understands the pressing needs of a King. Unlike my uncle.” Joffrey took a seat next to her, “He thinks I should stay with the women and children in the battle. Called me a child!”

****

“Surely you didn’t accept that my king!” Sansa feigned horror, “You’re as brave as a lion.”

****

“And as needy as one too.” He put his hand on her knee and swept it upward slowly. “Soon… soon you’ll be mine fully.”

****

Sansa picked up his hand and held it in both of hers, “I am counting the days your grace. Every day is misery without being your wife.” she laid it on thick, “I am sure the war council is needing you. I shouldn’t keep you here my King.” 

****

“They can wait.” He said licking his too pink lips.

****

“As much as I want to keep you to myself. The great Lords of Westeros need your guidance.” She said grasping his knee, “Besides I insist on you staying alive throughout the battle. I will be very cross with you should you fall in battle.” Satisfied Joffrey took his leave of her. 

****

“Laid it on a little thick there little bird.” Sandor grumbled at her, Sansa smirked and resumed her stitching. Not long after the King left Lord Varys came into her room. 

****

“Lord Varys.” She smiled and stood up hugging the man, “I am so happy you made it. I want to give you something.” She lowered her voice, “Tell your queen I accept.”  

****

“You’ve made your choice then?” Sansa nodded, “He agreed?”

****

“Not yet, he’s stubborn.” 

****

 “Whose stubborn?” Lord Baelish came in, she had bade Sandor stay in the room with her when he visited. 

****

“I should take my leave My Lady.” Sansa nodded to him taking her seat on the bench again she picked up her project while he prattled on. 

****

He’d given her the papers of her inheritance since she was now twenty and considered an adult in the eyes of the law. She’d stoically received the information that since she was the only Stark loyal to the crown she received everything at the King’s behest, but he would not name her Wardeness of the North. That honor would be bestowed upon another Northern family until their third son came of age and could claim the title himself, the first would be heir apparent and the second prince of Dragonstone like the Targaryens of old. 

****

“My lady Sansa,” Lord Baelish sat down next to her after the business was dispensed with, she didn’t stop her embroidery on a small strip of yellow cloth. “My ship leaves this evening, come with me. Your clever move in the small council gives me more access to the Royal treasury and ….” 

****

“I thank you for you offer Lord Baelish, but you and I both know that is not wise.” She uncharacteristically interrupted him. “Besides I should be at Joffrey's side when Stannis arrives.” 

****

“I assure you King Joffrey would not be the wiser.”

****

“And how do you intend on doing that my lord? He will notice that I am gone. In case you have forgotten I have a shield who watches over me at his behest.” 

****

“Joffrey could see the merit in me bringing you.” he pressed.

****

Sansa was quite for a long minute making both men uncomfortable before she responded, “I know what you want from me my lord. I cannot give it to you.” She continued her embroidery as if he was nothing more than an annoying fly in her room and Sandor couldn’t suppress his smug smirk when Baelish looked up at him. 

****

“And what do I want Sansa?” She finally looked up at him, her ice blue eyes hardening at the short man. 

****

“My Lord I’m not my father, I have learned from his mistakes. I won’t repeat them.”

****

“I have no idea what you are talking about My Lady, the only mistake your father made was telling the king he was a bastard.” 

****

“How very odd my lord. I could have sworn you made the same claim just days after my Lord Father was executed. Tell me, how did it feel to have a dagger pointed at your throat?” She said looking directly at him with her deep pale eyes. She knew, he internally cursed and wondered how she had put the discreet inquiry forward without his knowledge. 

****

“The washer boy?” Baelish sneered down at her remembering the dagger at his throat all to well. “He was yours?”

****

“Mine? I don’t own anyone My lord.” She said tilting her head to make the correct stitch, “The Queen is  _ very  _ talkative when she drinks too much. But I am sure you know that.” She looked back up at him, “I will offer you some advice my lord, the last man who tried to take me from the capitol my shield killed. He was my own man, trying to save me from the brutality that you simply stood by and watched in the throne room. I liked that man, I don’t like you, I don’t trust you, what do you think my shield will do to you?” Lord Baelish frowned but knew when she would not change her mind, turning his eyes met the solid wall of Sandor Clegane’s armored chest. “You may leave now Lord Baelish. Thank you for your kind offer.” Lord Baelish smiled, Sansa was everything her mother was when she was younger and twice as smart. 

****

“Oh, Lady Sansa, should I tell the king of your kisses? Or the stains on your sheets?” To her credit Sansa simply continued to stitch not showing any hint that his threat concerned her. “No? How about the blood then?”

****

“My Lord, I have no idea what you are talking about. Maester Pycelle has already verified my pure status, twice. But if you feel the need to discuss my menesus with his Grace I wish you luck.” She paused, a confused look coming over her face, “I do wonder though, what explanation you will give the King when he asks why you know about my moons.” She cocked her head to the side, “After all, all children are taught that only maids and husbands know when that is.” She let the threat hang in the air between them. 

****

“My Lady Stark with a simple word to the King...” Sansa’s sweet lips curved into a smile just before Sandor lifted the lordling and tossed him out of the room.  “You’re making a mistake! Just like your father!” 

****

“Fuck off Littlefinger.” 

****

Finally that evening a small scullery maid came up to her door, Sandor admitted her in when she said she had something for Sansa. She was in and out of the room faster than he thought it was possible to give a present, but the girl left with a smile on her face. “Lady Stark says she would like to give you something M’lord.” 

****

“I’m not a lord.” He growled at her. 

****

“Sorry ser…” she squeaked and ran before he could growl at her again. What torment did she have for him now, another lie or worse, the truth. When he stepped into the cool room he saw she had changed into her shift, an old one of deep blue that rode up to her thighs. 

****

“You wanted to see me.” He rasped she had a yellow pastry in her hands, his mind went back to the dream where she stuffed that exact thing into his mouth. It didn’t look as if she were going to share this one though, she popped it into her mouth and smiled at the lemony flavor bursting through her mouth.

****

“I wanted to give you something.” when she finished her treat.

****

“It’s your nameday.” He countered. 

****

“This isn’t a nameday gift, come here.”  He sat down on the cushioned bench next to her, “I know you can’t stop the order to be in the Vanguard when Stannis comes.” She gripped the small yellow linen she had been working with all day. 

****

“We’ve talked about this Little Bird.” They hadn’t, not really, he’d just snapped at her and she had accepted there was nothing for her to do. 

****

“I know,” she took one of his massive hands and pulled his gauntlet off, “I know we have. I don’t want you to go but I know you have no choice.” She spread out the yellow fabric showing her embroidery, “I want to give you my favor. No,” she said when he started to argue, “I  _ know  _ you’re not a knight, I  _ know  _ you hate knights. But I still want you to have my favor.” The strip of cloth was embroidered with a snarling direwolf done her family colors a red tinge around the wolf's eye and a small red bird standing on the tip of the wolves nose. Colorful flowers surrounded the animals, then to his surprise from the thorns were swords that looked to be growing out from the grove like vines; all done in the silky threads she had picked up yesterday in the markets. She had cut some of her hair and braided it attaching it to either end of the small piece of fabric so it could go around his wrist.

****

“I wanted to put swords on it because you seem to favor them.” She shifted closer to him pointing at the detailed blades coming from the flowers that stood out in contrast against the black thread. “The flowers are my favorites, Jonquils.” Sandor turned to looked at her, her eyes were bright as if wanting something from him, “Please wear it during the battle. I’m not stupid enough to believe it will protect you but…” The favor in his hands he turned and kissed her. A surprised squeak sounded from the back of her throat before she sighed and cupped his jawline with her hands and leaned into him. 

****

In a fast movement Sandor shifted to his knees never breaking the kiss, she seemed to understand instinctively turning with him and letting him lay her against the cushioned bench. Her tongue moved against his dueling with his, her hands still cupping his face, and her lips still tasting of honey. He gripped one thigh and forced it to his side before lowering himself between her legs. 

****

Sansa’s breath caught as she moved her hands from his face to his armor pulling at the straps that held it together. He moved from he moved from her mouth kissing a trail down her neck nipping her delicate skin. Heat made its home in her lower belly, his fingers dug into her thigh making her wince slightly. At her jump he growled at her like his prey was trying to escape and bit her neck. Not expecting the sharp bite she yelped, instantly Sandor was on his feet backing up from her and panting hard. Fuck, she wouldn’t be able to handle him, his needs, and he refused to hurt her without her damn consent. 

****

“Sandor,” She panted from the bench.

****

“FUCK.” he yelled running his hands in his hair.

****

Sansa got to her feet and came to him taking his hands in his. “Please… Please Sandor.” She sucked in her breath when his hand came up to her throat wrapping his long fingers around it.

****

“Stop it girl.” He growled. “We’ve played this game to long.” Sandor felt her rapid pulse beating under his hand, “You don’t fucking understand.” Sandor cursed himself- he reminded himself she was a lady and couldn’t… wouldn’t enjoy him for bed sport.

****

“Make me understand.” she snapped as her hands came around his arm, his hand wasn’t exerting any pressure not yet. She knew it could change in seconds, and she wanted it to. 

****

He dragged her closer to him by her throat, forcing her to turn her head up to look at him, “I have some filthy fuckin’ desires for you. I need to  **own** you, possess you in every away; your fucking body, heart, your soul.” Sansa’s eyes never wavered from his; he could feel her breath coming in short pants, could feel her pressing herself against him. Didn’t she understand the warning he was giving her? His other hand came up into the river of fire that was her hair and fisted a handful of the silky locks. If she gave herself to him he’d possess her until the day one of them died, “I  **want** to hear more than your moan, I want your gods be damned scream to  **_belong_ ** to my name alone.” Sandor tugged hard on her hair making her whimper, the sound sent a bolt of heat to his cock, making him harden further. His next words came out in a gravelly whisper, “I want to shove my cock down your delicate little throat and deep inside your sweet tiny cunny. I want to bruise your pretty little body while I fuck you into oblivion then kiss it after, I need your cunt around me and belonging only to me, and I  **need** you to fucking want it too.” He’d laid out his intentions and desires at her feet half praying she would take the warning and shrink before him half hoping she would kiss him and demand he take her. Sandor didn’t want to think about what would happen if she rejected him and his needs. She needed to know everything about him, especially his need to be in control and to possess what was his. 

****

Sansa rubbed her thighs together trying to soothe the ache and wetness he started within her again. She didn’t want to use her play toy tonight, she wanted him, she needed him and everything he’d just threatened her with. Sansa started pulling that the leather straps that held his armor in place, pulling off his other gauntlet, then vambrace. The sound of metal hitting the stone floor was deafening between them, “What else do you need?” she asked breathily. 

****

Her eyes held a heat he’d never seen in a woman before, he sensed her hands on his chest running her fingers over his leather armor. “I want you to be mine and I can’t be gentle about girl. I don’t know how to be. I will hurt you and I will like it. I’ll keep fucking you while you scream, and your cries. Seven hells your whimpers and cries- little bird, they will only make me harder.” He growled out the truth of it as she worked her hands on the rest of his armor. “I want you to love me, really love me.” he admitted whispering in her ear.

****

She abandoned his chest piece and slid her hands up his face pale blue eyes searching his. “Do you love me?” 

****

Sandor’s lip twitched, her hands felt so good, so soft; “Doesn’t matter if I do or don’t does it Little bird?” She took a step back and Sandor gritted his teeth, letting her go he would never hold a woman against her will. He shouldn't have told her that, shouldn’t have explained why they could never be together, now she really would be afraid of him. She was rejecting him, something in his chest started to crack she wouldn’t let him kiss her, wouldn’t let him hold her. 

****

“I love you Sandor.” She whispered. Sandor needed undeniable proof, clarification, he needed the words to tumble from her mouth again. Before he could demand it she sank to her knees in front of him tracing her hands down him as she went down sparkling eyes never leaving his, “I love you.” Sansa unlaced his pants and stroked him through the fabric, her fingers hooked on the waist line and she pulled them down his hardness met her eyes, “You won’t hurt me.” he would never hurt her like he thought he would. She understood innately if she told him to stop he would, if she was scared he would make her feel safe, he would always comfort her.

****

“Sansa,” He groaned trailing his fingertips from under her chin to her temple, “You’ll regret it woman, I told you I’m not no gentle fucking knight. And you’ll be mine forever.”

****

Sansa licked her lips, and imagined this is how a man should look during arousal, long, hard and positively lickable. “If I wanted gentle I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.” She said softly to him from her kneeling position, her hand slid up and down his impressive length gently pulling back his foreskin that still covered his tip . It was one thing to feel it in the heat of the moment, quite another to be staring at it. She ran her thumb over the tip of his member spreading his moisture around the head of his cock, he moaned before he could stop himself. Sansa took his wide tip into her mouth, her eyes closing as the semi salti skin touched her tongue. Instantly he fisted one hand in her hair as a hoarse groan came from him, she swirled her tongue around his head capturing the sweet and salty flavor of him and sucked. Gripping his base softly she pulled him deeper into her mouth. Sandor quicikly tugged at the laces of his leather armor, somehow managing to take it off, tossing it to the ground carelessly-his tunic was next. 

****

His hands fisted again in her curling red hair he forced himself to stay still, forced himself to not buck his hips forward and enjoy her attentions. Then she slid her tongue up and around the head of his cock, “fuck it,” he rasped as he forced her head down lower until her mouth met her hand. Sansa twisted her hand on the part of his shaft she couldn’t fit in her mouth as he pulled her hair back and shoved her back down his length. He bucked his hips forward sinking himself deeper into her mouth, she moaned around him. “Move your fucking hand.” He ordered her, panting. She obeyed her hand leaving his thick shaft gripping his the edge of his pants pulling them down low enough to expose his ass. Sansa gripped his ass cheeks letting him sink as far forward as he wanted. 

****

He bucked forward sinking into her mouth as deep as he could before she made a choking sound and felt her gag on his length pressing himself to the back of her throat until he was sure she was out of breath, still, not all of him could fit. Looking down his body to where she knelt in front of him, tears falling down her face and spit leaking from her mouth he didn’t stop, couldn't stop now. He wanted the image burned in his mind forever of sweet supple Sansa choking on his cock her flaming hair twisted in his hands. “You’re so fucking beautiful Little Bird. Tears down your face from my cock, your throat is divine taking me as deep as you are.” He wiped on errant tear away with his thumb as he gently rocked in and out of her mouth, reveling in the happy mewling she delivered at the compliment. 

****

Every time he pumped into her mouth she felt her heat building with every lewd compliment he gave her, every time he pulled her head back only to slam forward she felt more wetness pooling between her thighs. Sansa’s hands left his rear and fisted in her shift when he looked down at her giving him full control over how he moved inside of her mouth. His normally soft gray eyes were almost the color of charcoal; she’d seen the look a few times from him felt the heat of it wash over her body and Sansa knew she had lost everything to him. She would give him everything tonight and he would take it remorselessly just as he promised. Just as she wanted.

****

“Get up.” He rasped pulling her mouth off of him a line of spit still connecting her mouth and his cock; he yanked her in his arms. She scrambled up trying to keep up with his needs as he pressed a savage kiss to her lips. She met him open mouthed, her arms wrapping around his neck growling as his tongue dueled with hers. His hands slid to her ass gripping it hard then he growled in the back of his throat picking her up and laid her on the table. The sound of scrolls, plates and silverware hitting the floor resounded throughout the room, “Spread your legs,” as she did, he gripped her shift at the neckline and ripped it down the middle not wanting to deal with the fuss of ties or buttons. She shoved her shift off her arms, letting it fall to the table behind her matching his franticness as he shoved his pants off his body.

****

Her lips found his and she clutched at his massive shoulders bringing him down on top of her. One of his hands found her breast squeezing it she moaned against his mouth; he left her lips and worked down to her other nipple taking it into his hot mouth, Sansa’s hands fisted in his hair as she arched into him as his thumb brushed her nipple into a peak. She groaned at the feel of his teeth grazing the taunt bud his tongue swirling around her nipple mimicking what she had just done to his cock.

****

Sandor pulled up the part of her shift that was still intact and bunched around her waist, gazing down at the neatly trimmed red thatch of hair between her legs. He needed to own her, set his mouth to her and make her scream. “Hold the back of your legs.” He ordered her and was pleased when she did so instantly.  He knelt, grabbed her by her exposed hips and set his mouth to her burying his face in creamy white and virgin red hair. Inhaling her scent and licked her from hole to clit. Her lips were already spread for him letting him find her clit easily and he wrapped his scarred lips around it. 

****

Sansa jerked on the table, she sat up her hands gripping his uneven hair once again as he laved his wet attentions on to her body. His command forgotten Sansa felt her world spin as she shut her eyes and let her man love her as he pleased. He flicked his tongue against the sensitive bud and Sansa let out a high pitched sigh more wetness gathering at her woman's entrance. She angled her hips to give him better access and was rewarded with a satisfying growl. “Sandor… Please… Please I need you.” She managed to pant through her haze. 

****

Sandor lifted his head from between her legs, knowing he couldn't bring her to peak without his hand on her mouth.  He stood again and kissed her, making her taste her own juices. Then he guided her back down, his hands skimming her skin he pinned her wrists with both hands and he gripped himself aiming at her entrance. He knew he would hurt her, knew she would cry out in pain, and knew the cry would only make him harder. So be it, he’d warned her. He released her breast with his other hand he pinned her hands above her head forcing her down fully to the table. Her wet heat enveloped him as he rubbed himself against her, her slickness between her lips, and her soft keening sending him deeper into his primal instinct to claim her. Sandor licked her nipple one final time before raising his head wanting to watch her face as he entered her, as he claimed her. Her head fell back exposing her neck to him, Sandor angled himself and leaned on the table, bracing one hand against her hip, “Look at me,” she followed the command instantly, “I’ll fuck you until you scream girl.” he surged forward seating himself inside of her, breaking through the thin barrier of her maidenhead. 

****

She cried out and clenched her thighs to his waist as he seated himself fully inside of her, the sweet sound of her virtue ending ringing in his ears. He watched a red flush come over her as her knees drew up letting him sink in deeper into her. Her channel was almost to tight, he didn’t prepare her enough, some part of him didn’t want to, to excited to take his little bird he’d entered her with only enough thought to make sure she was slick. Unable to stop himself, he closed his eyes at her tiny movements in her tight sheath, he’d never taken a maid before and didn’t expect this. He expected her maidenhead, but didn’t realize how much it would hurt her, he tried to find a modicum of regret and came up with nothing; he was finally inside of her. Finally inside of his obsession and damnation. 

****

Sansa pressed her head back against the table her eyes shut tightly against the pain as he seated himself inside of her, his was large and she had underestimated how much it would hurt. She felt a tear roll down her cheek from the pain as he entered her, stretched her and briefly gave her a moment to adjust to his size. The pain began to make her heady, her breasts felt heavier and she had the sensation to rub her legs together again, she wanted more and less at the same time. He’d closed his eyes and his mouth hung slightly open as he felt her around him. She felt full, the fullness she’d been missing days ago with her toy. She whimpered under him, true to his word she felt him grow impossibly harder inside of her. He bent his head and pressed it to her collar bone murmuring, “ **_Fuck_ ** .” Sansa squeezed him with her feminine muscles enjoying the stretching pain his member was creating inside of her, testing what he could feel and what he would enjoy, “You’re doing that on purpose.” he growled in her ear. She needed him to do the things he promised to her, needed him to claim her in ways only he could.

****

“I can’t help it,” She said breathlessly. He groaned again and withdrew, thinking he was going to completely pull away from her she tried to lock her ankles around him, “No, don't leave. I’ll try to stop it.”

****

He bent over her so his face was barley inches from hers, “Didn’t you hear me? I’m going to fuck you until you scream, little bird. I don’t care if it’s from pain or pleasure at this point as long as I get to spill myself inside of your tight cunt. Pull your fucking knees up again.” Sansa did as he bade her, hot and slick at his words. She used her inner muscles to tell him, to urge him to continue with his words, his hands and his body. He reared his hips and slowly pushed forward her body adding to the building pressure inside of her the sharp pain inside her dulling to throbbing ache every time he moved. Every small whimper and every uncontrolled tear she felt him grow harder inside of her. “I’m going to savor this little bird. I’ve never fucked a maid before and you’re tight and perfect. I’ll mold you to my cock. No one will fit but me.” Sansa panted under him and started moving against him, chasing her release the pressure of the pain converting quickly to pleasure within her. The weight of his hands against hers disappeared, his hand traced the side of her face his thumb trailing into her mouth dipping there slightly before it came down to her throat and closed around it. 

****

He stroked in and out of her slowly, she was so fucking beautiful, teats bouncing as he thrust in and out of her,  she deserved better than him and what he was about to do to her, “Tell me you want this soft and sweet. Fucking tell me to stop little bird.” He seemed to almost want her to beg him to take her. So she did. 

****

He couldn’t stop, she would scream if he did, “Don’t stop,” She panted and experimented by rolling her hips enjoying the way the pain turned to high tingling pleasure inside of her.

****

“All the control I have is on a fucking tether right now and you’re about to snap it.”

****

She gripped his arm with both of her hands, “Don’t you dare stop.” Sandor groaned and slammed into her sending hot waves of sensation through her body, their eyes met and held each other. White hot tension built up in her at the base of each stroke, bringing the pressure within her closer and closer to her surface.

****

Sandor bucked, his hair falling in his face as he thrust in and out of her, he adjusted his grip on her neck and pressed the sides of it, wanting to cut off her blood flow and not her air, needing to hear the sounds she was making. Sansa’s pretty song something he yearned for something he didn’t know he’d been starved for his entire life. Her hot, slick cunt welcoming his every thrust and trembling around him was ecstasy. He grit his teeth he’d never had a woman want him to fuck her like this, like she was his personal fucktoy and enjoy it herself, he wouldn’t last long. Not with her like this, “ **You’re mine little bird** .” he growled, “ **Only mine. Your cunt is mine, your mouth is mine, and that sweet song is mine too.** ”

****

“Yes.” She moaned not sure if she was agreeing or telling him to keep doing what he was doing. His huge hand squeezed her neck as she clutched his arm. The tight hot ball of pressure he’d put inside of her was starting to fracture. Each stroke, each wet slap of their flesh bringing her closer and closer, Sansa moved her hands digging her nails into his shoulders as he pounded into her relentlessly. Black spots started to appear in her vision driving her to the edge of ecstasy, he eased his hold on her throat just barely letting her breath. 

****

She felt his guiding hand on her hip urging her to move in rhythm with him, “Like that,” He rasped above her, “Just like that.” his fingers dug into her hip as she rolled her hips seeking release on his cock, stroking herself the way she would if she were alone; at his appreciative growl and curse she found it. A tidal wave of sensation erupted deep within her, she was lost in the sea of agonized pleasure he brought her with every continued stroke.  His hand quickly covered her mouth as she screamed out her ecstasy, her body jerking as he pounded into her, the waves of passion washed over her. 

****

Sandor growled as her walls contracted around his cock, her soft channel gripped him as wave after wave of harsh contractions assaulted him. Her head was thrown back and her eyes were rolling up, legs shaking around him, still he fucked into her small body enjoying the way he forced her little body to move every time he thrust up inside of her. He gritted his teeth stifling the roar of his release, his lower body jerking forward involentarly sending him deeper into her, shifting the table. Her eyes were wide as he spent himself violently into her. Precious moments passed were the only sound was their ragged breathing was the only sound in the room slowly he released his hold on her delicate neck and mouth immediately he saw the discoloration of her skin already starting bright red against her pale skin. 

****

Bending over her he pressed gentle kisses her neck covering every inch of red skin with tender kisses, her eyes had closed and her breathing still labored matching his own heaving chest. “Mine.” He growled after each kiss. His mouth took hers soft and sweet, still the Hound claimed his mate by demanding she respond to him. 

****

“Yours.” she said softly, her mouth moving against his, her hands tracing through his hair raking her nails possessively over his scalp. 

****

Slowly he eased out of her, kissing her neck and working his way down her body. He lovingly caressed her breasts before descending lower to her navel and below kissing her mound in her thatch of red curls. His fingertips tracing the sides of her body before collapsing on a chair, she lay there on the table with her legs spread wide her thighs were covered in his seed and traces of blood evidence of her maidenhead gone and now belonging to him. He felt a surge of pride, she’d given it to him freely and it was a prize he would always cherish. 

****

He gazed at the beautiful sight, the red hair above her cunny was damp and he noticed her thighs were shaking now, her breath still hitching, the kisses weren’t enough to bring her down completely, she needed more. Needed more comfort from him that he was all too happy to give. She was his now and forever and she needed him now, needed comfort after the violence of their coupling. He gathered her from the table and into his lap where she straddled him, her head resting on his shoulder red hair tumbling over his shoulder. Her ruined shift fell to the floor letting him stroke her back with gentle caresses murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. When she roused she simply readjusted her cheek against his shoulder and snuggled deeper into him.


	10. The Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we learn about Sandor's sister, Joffrey's past, and Sansa's kinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre- BBB.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Sandor is rough here-ownership tendencies. NO ABUSE.

She didn’t know how much time had passed with Sandor tracing his fingertips up and down her spine, she had barely registered when he had kicked off his pants and boots. Sansa snuggled deeper into her shield, now lover his smell of warm cedar and leather wrapping her in a blanket of comfort and safety. She knew ladies didn’t talk about or even like what he had done to her. Ladies wouldn’t have enjoyed the bruises around her neck or ache between her thighs where he had abused her body and had taken his pleasure, no; they would be scared after such a rough coupling and in tears. But she couldn’t bring herself to feel any fear with him so near her, she only felt protected and safe as his hand stroked up and down her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt his arms around her, pressing her sensitive chest to his hairy muscular one; after many long moments he spoke “Back with me?” she nodded against his neck, “You did really well little bird, strong and beautiful.”

****

She mumbled something against the burned side of his neck her breath ticking the sensitive skin and positioned herself so her head rested under his chin. Sandor frowned, no woman, even the ones he paid, wanted to stay with him afterward. Everyone of them lay stiff as a board, even the ones claiming to perform this special service, until he found his pants and left them in the dark. Not his little bird, she lay draped over him her long limbs clinging to him. Seven hells she must really love him to be purring in his arms like a well fed kitten after what he’d done to her. “What?”

****

Lifting her head seemed to take a thousand years, “I don’t understand what happened. No one ever told me about that.” She was surprised to hear her voice was raw, like she had been coughing for several days.   

****

Sandor sketched the outline of her full lips with his fingertips, “There are women who specialize in pleasing men with needs like mine Little Bird,” She tensed in his arms, “None of that now.” He rasped down at her, “I’ve not seen a woman like that since before you came in King’s Landing.” Appeased, Sansa relaxed and listened to his story, “It’s called The Quiet. I don’t know how it works in you but my job is to bring you back down. Bring you back to me.” 

****

“Will it be like that every time?”

****

“Only when I push you passed a certain point. I won’t do it to you every time.” Sansa pressed her forehead to his, “are you cold?” 

****

“Yes,” she said kissing him, “But I don’t want to sleep with lions around me.”

****

“I hurt you tonight Little Bird, it won’t be any better in the morning. You’ll be sore and it won’t stop me. No woman likes me in the morning.” he said tracing the back of his knuckles down the side of her cheek, he wanted to give her the opportunity to recover, before he took her again. He seemingly couldn’t keep his hands to himself now that he had permission to touch her, now that he’d earned her trust, he never wanted to stop feeling her. She was all soft beauty to his course hard flesh. 

****

“I like you just fine in the morning.” She smirked remembering him from just a few days ago when he had pinned her to his bed. 

****

“Stop teasing me woman, the last woman who was with me took holy vows. You’ll be tired and sore if you get in my bed tonight. There’s so much more than that little bird, I will step you into it slowly.” A surge of protectiveness and possessiveness washed over him, she was his yes and he always took care of what was his. 

****

“Is that why you refused to tell me your feelings for me? Because your afraid I’ll leave?”

****

“Sansa,” he paused, “I’m not like you, I can’t just say my feelings. It’s difficult for me.” Sandor was being as honest has he had ever been with anyone, even his own damn reflection. “I’m good at demanding shit.” He lifted her off his lap, “Like when I told you that you would suck your maidens blood from me.” Sansa sucked in a breath and despite the soreness between her legs she started to feel the tingling sensation in her woman's place again. “Kneel little bird.” She did, her hands on his knees. The coarse hair there chafing her soft palms, his eyes dilated and he leaned forward grabbing a fistful of her hair but not yanking her back,  “Now clean up the mess you made.” His member was already hardening again as she brought herself closer to him. Tentatively she once again took him into her mouth cleaning as far down his shaft as she could fit in her mouth. Sandor let out a string of curses as she did her work. “That mouth of yours could bring a god to his knees.” he groaned as she finished. 

****

“You seem good with your words there.” She smiled sweetly up at him. 

****

“They were far from the sweet ones you want to hear.” 

****

“I’ll say it for you, I’ll tell you everything. I want you to take me to bed. My body craves yours. Your smell, your kiss, your hands, everything. I like your coarse words, you make me hot and wet,” Sandor pulled her back onto his lap, “I don’t care how complicated it gets, I want you, only you.” He shifted under her, his hands coming to her ass he squeezed and shifted her over his member. “I  **want** the bruises, I  **want** you to mark me, I  **need** you. I want you,  _ I love you _ .” 

****

“Say it again.” He rasped, “ **I need to hear it again** .” 

****

“I love you, I need you...” He pushed into her making her gasp, her eyes met his as he thrust deeply into her; her hands came to rest on his shoulders again. His hands gripping her hips gently urging her to roll her hips. She followed his lead and timed her movements with his. 

****

“Fuck yes.” His head fell back against the chair and Sansa felt emboldened, bending slightly and nipping his neck. He let out a growl and she nipped again. Hard heavy hands yanked her head back and exposed her delicate throat to him, he slammed deep into her making her quiver in her seated position. “Like that don’t you?” He growled as she whimpered on top of him. 

****

“Yes…”

****

“Yes what?” Her cunt tightened around his cock and he slowed denying her the pleasure she so desperately wanted. She made a feminine growling sound and he chuckled, “Yes what little bird.” 

****

“Yes Ser.” 

****

“Good girl.” He stroked himself inside her, finding her spot, “What else do you need little bird? What other sweet songs will you sing to me tonight?”  He said pressing his advantage, she was love drunk he decided. Telling him things he wanted to hear so she could stay safe.  _ Tomorrow _ , he thought as he thrust up into her,  _ Tomorrow she will be afraid again, come to her senses and tell me it was a mistake.  _

****

She moaned, arching her back “Sandor,” Suddenly he picked her up, Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he took her to his bed, leaving her body briefly. Before long she felt the sheets under her as he resettled between her legs; Sandor plunged back inside of her hot wet channel in one swift stroke making her whimper. “It’ll get easier little bird.” He said to her, gripping her thighs and bringing it around his hip again. 

****

She gave him a fractured sigh, and Sandor’s world refocused on her and the little space between them - on her knees gripping his sides and her tight swollen sheath gripping him. On barely stifled moans and pretty eyes, he couldn't tell where her breath ended and his began. He pumped in and out of her enjoying her fluttering eyes and how her pink tongue darted out of her mouth to wet her lips, her fingernails scratching his scalp as she gripped fistfuls of his hair. She was love drunk, he reminded himself but so was he. He felt her arching under him, felt her walls start to contract again, for just tonight he would believe the lie, “Look at me.” He growled, “Look at me.” He repeated, with difficulty her eyes opened and landed on his. “Don’t think of any other man between your thighs bringing you to peak. It’s me, it will  **always** be me. Only me.” She cried out her climax unable to stifle the sound. Her walls contracted tightly around him, gripping him as he reared his hips. He withdrew one final time and slammed forward the Hound claiming his mate as his own. Orgasm ripped through him a second time as his hot seed spilled inside of her, she grabbed his face and kissed him as his cock pulsed inside of her emptying himself. 

****

Sansa tasted his claiming roar on her lips, feeling him deep inside of her as he ground his hips against hers. He returned her kiss, hands tangling in her hair he angled her head to deepen it. She felt him opening to her, felt his openness and vulnerability collide with hers, she opened herself to him letting him feel her softness. The rush of emotions reached up and filled every part of her body, goosebumps rippled over her body and she pressed closer to him pouring her very soul into the kiss.  “Mine.” She purred into his mouth. 

****

Never in a million moons would Sandor admit his heart starting to thaw at her words. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, “Fuck Sansa. Don’t tell me you’ll regret this in the morning, don’t fucking tell me you were love drunk tonight. You’re mine now, forever; ugly as I am.” 

****

“Sandor,” She drew his attention to her bright blue eyes, “Always and forever I am yours.” She etched his scar with her finger tips, her breath nearly back to normal, “You’re not ugly.” She pressed a kiss to his burned cheek, “I’ve never thought that.” 

****

“You used to be scared of me.” He put up the pathetic defense not understanding why she would love him, why she would want him. 

****

“You used to be so mean.” She countered.

****

“I still am.”

****

“Not to me you’re not.” She said kissing his jawline, “And you aren’t ugly I already told you that.” 

****

He snorted his disbelief, “You’d call me handsome with my bone showing?” he pointed out the worst of his disfigurement. __

****

Sansa slid her hand down to touch the area around the exposed bone and the marred skin twisted around it, no matter the amount of facial hair he grew he would never be able to fully cover it. She kissed the bone, it was smooth and in utter contrast to the scar on his skin, “Can you feel this?” He shook his head in shock that she would do such a thing. Her fingers traced over it next, she truly didn’t find him repulsive. Quietly he started to believe in her feelings, “Did they not try to fix this?”  He gently slid out of her body but didn’t roll off of her yet, liking the way her hips cradled him. 

****

“Aye they tried, the salves made me itch.” Sandor barely felt her hand against his cheek and nothing around his jaw but he still leaned against her hand.

****

“I can’t imagine you without them.” She said looking from his scar to his eyes, “You wouldn’t be the same person. You wouldn’t be my hound and I wouldn’t be your little bird.”  _ Anyone who loves you will overlook them, they won’t matter to her. She’ll just see them as part of your face like your gray eyes. She’ll accept you just as you come to her _ ,  **fuck** , just how long had she felt this way him, and just how long had he been oblivious to it mooning over her from his brooding corner?

****

“You will always be  **my** little bird.” He said kissing her forehead, she was to fucking good for him and he thanked whatever god saw fit to make her love him.

****

“You shouldn’t have had to have gone through that, no little boy should. What did your mother say? Your father?” Sandor shifted off her then, uncomfortable with the conversation and laid on his back on the narrow bed. Sansa laid her head on his chest, her long hair spilling across his arm as he rubbed her shoulder with his fingertips. Then Sandor reached down and pulled the blankets up they’d managed to kick everywhere covering them under the thin fabric. 

****

She nearly fell asleep while he gathered his thoughts, “My mother cried for weeks after they took off the bandages. My Father just sent Gregor away then lied for him to cover it up, you know he lied about my sheets. He refused to acknowledge me after that. I was a ghost in my own fucking house. Only my sister would talk to me.” finally telling her the rest of the story and about his sister. 

****

She raised an eyebrow in surprise, he’d never mentioned a sister before, “What is her name?” She asked playing with his thick chair hair, threading her fingers through it.

****

“Eleanor.” He uttered her name for the first time in years, and her ghost appeared in his mind's eye, first to haunt him. She’d been the shortest of the Clegane siblings and the sweetest. Black hair down to her waist and silver eyes matching his, Eleanor had been three years his junior but always protecting him from their devil of a brother and she had paid for it with her life when she was only twelve. “ _ She and the little bird would have gotten along,” _ he thought to himself. 

****

“That’s a sweet name.” Sansa said sleepily breaking him from the thoughts, “You’re mine Sandor and I am yours.” He pulled her closer as her breathing evened out falling asleep on him. Staring at the ceiling he watched the shadow of the flames from the remaining candles dance around each other. How had it gotten to this from simple kisses? How had she fallen for  **him** of all people? He knew he’d wanted to her under him for years but then so did every man in the Red Keep. 

****

He’d always been drawn to her, even when she was just a child when she first came to the capitol, talking about  _ everything _ . It hadn’t been lost on him that every time she’d been scared she’d put herself in his line of sight, even when her father was alive. He remembered the countless nights he’d been asked to escort her back to her rooms by Lord Stark, every time she’d given him courtesies and little songs that he had learned to cherish and horde like a miser. Soon enough he was the only one she would let escort her around the keep. She probably knew more about him than anyone else in the world and never once had she ever shunned him or pitied him. Tonight she had given him the one thing he thought he would never claim from her,  _ willingness _ .  The final test. Fuck sake, she really was the perfect mate for him. 

****

He’d thought her above his base wants; still fantasizing about princelings and summer boys still singing her stupid songs. His little bird surprised him tonight, she’d enjoyed what he did to her, enjoyed him between her legs and demanded more from him. Sansa Stark  **enjoyed** his violence, craved it even- the evidence of it still engraved on his manhood. He reached under the blankets and felt the tackiness that was her blood and his seed on him, she’d laid her trust at his feet like he’d done with his sword weeks ago and he’d be damned if he fucked it up. 

****

She could have screamed at any time but she didn’t, no instead she’d clung to him and peaked around his cock, another new sensation for him. She’d given all of herself to him tonight and held nothing back, now Sandor held her love in his hands something fragile as an egg with him and he had no idea what to do with it, didn’t know if he could return it to her in the way she deserved. He’d warned her that he would possess her for the rest of their lives, warned her of everything and still she wanted him. 

****

Sandor  **should** be telling himself she meant nothing to him, she as only his until he tired of her but every time he rehearsed it to himself the hound snarled at him; the hound knew the truth of it. _ “You’re mine Sandor and I am yours.” _ He tried to force an image of her with another man in his minds eyes, any other man at her side and found himself pulling her closer to him, her soft leg hooked over his hip as she buried herself deeper against him. He thought inwardly  _ “Fuck me.” _ Sandor Clegane was lost to his Little Bird, she was it for him there would be no one else as long as he lived.  _ “You’re mine Sandor and I am yours.”  _ He would love her the only way he knew how, protect her and kill anyone who tried to take her away from him. He was her first and he would be her only, he decided. Tomorrow he would bring up the contact Varys had presented her, if she would marry him he’d happily toss his surname away. “You’re mine and I am yours.” He whispered to her sleeping form. “Fucking hells little bird, I love you.” 

****

Sansa smiled.

****

*****

Sansa woke when he stirred behind her just before dawn when he pressed himself inside of her, his hand clamped tightly over her mouth. There was no gentleness as he pounded himself into her still slick channel; she whimpered at each stroke. Still sore from last night but able to deny her arousal at the sudden intrusion and roughness. He shifted her body making her back arch when she complied with his wishes, his fingers dug painfully into her hip and she knew it would leave a bruise. Daringly she gripped his hand on her hip and brought it between her legs, she heard him growl in her ear as she moved his fingers around her woman's bud, trying to show him what she liked. He shoved her hand out of the way and took over the ministrations, his hands moved faster than hers ever had and she found herself arching further almost to get away from the roughness but the movement made him slide in deeper striking something inside her that made her quiver, she gripped his arm trying to move it before the sensation became to much, before she lost her bladder on him. 

****

She tried to form the words for him to stop before she did but every time he thrust inside of her striking her sensitive spot she lost the word on moan. Pressure like nothing she had ever experienced built quickly in her, frantically she gripped at his arm before she burst. It was like steel under her fingers refusing to budge, suddenly he bit her shoulder on a growl. Sansa screamed into his hand unable to stop herself from losing her bladder on him, her fingers dug into his arm as the most intense orgasm she’d ever had ripped through her. For a moment she didn’t even care that she lost herself on him as wave after wave of intensity crashed over her. The sound of the unexpected wetness made him slam into her grinding his hips against her ass before erupting himself making her jerk at the added sensations. His hand moved from her mouth turning her head towards him and his kiss. “Mine.” he growled.

****

“Yours.” She panted against his lips, satisfied with her response he moved his hand from between her legs and allowed her to turn and face him, “I’m sorry.” She whispered her cheeks flaming. 

****

“For what?” He knitted his brows.

****

“I… I’ve never lost my water like that.” To her utter shock he put his fingers to his mouth and licked them before she could stop him. “Sandor! That’s disgusting!” 

****

He chuckled at her, “It’s not piss.” She flushed as he presented his fingers to her, “Taste.” Despite herself she did, eyes widening at the almost sweet taste. “See, not piss. I forget what its called, just means you came outside like a man does.”  

****

“I don’t understand, what is that?” 

****

“Does it matter if you liked it?” He put the fingers in question to her lips. “Shut it woman, your cunt is the sweetest damn one I’ve ever had and this,” he rubbed his fingers together still wet with her juices and their spit, “I’ll make you do this every damn time if it means you squeeze my cock like that again.” She blushed a deep scarlet and buried her face in his chest still embarrassed by her own body. 

****

Sandor only laughed. 

****

***

****

Shea arrived that morning looking more pale than normal, “I see she gave you your cloak back.” She tried to say lightly. 

****

“Aye.” Shea gripped the tray so hard he could see her knuckles turning white. “What is it?”

****

“Stannis will be here tonight night. His sails have been spotted.”  _ Fuck,  _ he opened Sansa’s door and ushered the maid in, no doubt he would be getting orders soon to show her to Maegor's holdfast. Sansa was sitting on the cushioned bench wrapped in a thin robe opening a present she’d received last night when she spotted Shea. 

****

“Shea? What’s wrong?” The maid spun to her then her eyes widened.

****

“My lady your neck, what happened?” then her eyes fell to the chemise at her feet, she scooped it up and saw the smears of blood on the fabric. “My Lady?” Sansa blushed and looked away having completely forgotten to pick up the garment. Shea closed the distance between them and gently sat down next to her, “Well?” She demanded like a common gossip girl. “Tell me your news then I will tell you mine.” Sansa glanced over at her maid then broke into a huge smile telling the full story feeling like she was talking to her old friend Jeyne in Winterfell, for a moment. Shea, bless her past life, explained what had happened to her this morning was normal and it simply meant she really enjoyed what had happened to her. “It doesn’t happen every time my lady.” 

****

“Needless to say I need a bath.” She said still blushing furiously. 

****

“You need a scarf around your neck.” Shea pointed out. 

****

Shea went about the room cleaning up from their wild evening while Sansa ate half her porridge before prompting her maid to tell her the news that had been promised. “Stannis’s fleet has been spotted my lady. Tyrion says he makes landfall tonight.” Sansa froze in her spot. “Maester Pycelle wants your help in his towers. To get the healing salves ready. For after the battle.” 

****

“Tonight?” she whispered. It was too soon, she’d just fallen into Sandors arms now he would be on the front lines. Her door opened suddenly Sandor standing in her doorway. “Shea, please see to bringing me some hot water.” She ordered, her maid curtsied before taking her leave. 

****

“She’s told you?” 

****

“She did.” 

****

“I’m to escort you to the Maesters tower then go below with the other men.” Sansa closed her eyes taking a steadying breath. He would be okay, he would live, she told herself. Her hound always came back to her. She felt him holding her hands then, “Little Bird,” He took his dirk from his belt and pressed it into her hands, the weapon felt heavy in her hands and she realized with a start this was the same weapon that had taken the lives of the three men who had tried to rape her, “Get dressed after your maid comes back, hide it under your skirts.” 

****

“Wont you need it?” She looked up into his gray eyes.

****

“I’ll come back for it.”  _ and for you _ . She heard it plainly in his voice without him having to say it, he gently traced her cheek his thumb coming to rest on her chin. “I’ll always come back.” Then he was kissing her, she tasted his desperation. 

****

When Shea arrived with some hot water Sansa washed and dressed quickly in a loose fitting purple gown, strapping the dirk to her thigh with ribbon. Shea said nothing to her but nodded her agreement at her decision to keep the weapon on her. Sansa selected a thin scarf to wrap around her neck hiding the dark bruises circling her neck. She stepped outside of her rooms and felt the frantic energy in the keep swirl around her. Silently she and Sandor made their way to the maesters towers. Maesters and septons ran this way and that trying to get everything ready, she called out for Maester Pycelle. “What do you need me to do?”

****

“Oh yes… I need you in the stihl room. I need you to start diluting that pain potion and …” Sansa took the orders silently. 

****

“I’ll pull the other salves as well, make sure every healer has a basket of what’s needed.”  He thanked her then limped off toward his next task. Sandor saw her to the stihl room, closing the door needing one last moment with her before he went below. She spun around “Are you still wearing my favor?”

****

“Aye,” She smoothed his cloak over his armor removing nonexistent wrinkles from it, Sandor cupped her cheek and jaw in his hand. Her eyes met his and she braced her weight on his chest, he bent his neck brushing his lips against hers. 

****

Sansa felt his other hand on the small of her back pulling her toward him, she fell against him as he pressed his kiss on her, his lips hard and demanding against hers. Her fingers curled into his cloak, his scent, heat and hands demanding her full attention. She knew he needed reassurance, could feel the insecurity rolling off of him, he slid his hand to the back of her head and fisted his hands in her hair he pulled her away, “Who do you belong to?” He growled over her startled gasp.

****

“You.” She answered breathlessly, his lips came crashing down on hers his scent overpowering her scenes, his heat and hands demanding her full attention and she gave it to him. He seemed satisfied with her answer, apparently needing her to say it for him. 

****

“I meant to give you something last night,” He rasped, “Turn around.” Sansa did as she was asked and felt the weight of a necklace settle against her neck. Looking down she picked up a beautifully cut yellow gemstone, there were three snarling hounds biting into it keeping it in place and acting as fasteners to keep the stone in place. 

****

She looked up at him, “It’s beautiful Sandor, thank you.” She knew what the piece was even if he didn’t, for so long she had felt he held her leash and now he’d given her a collar. One she was happy to wear, “I’ll never take it off.” 

****

He gripped her arms again before speaking, “I promise you this Little Bird, I’ll come back to you alive. I’ll keep you safe. They’re all afraid of me, no one will ever hurt your again, or I’ll kill them.” he said in a raspy whisper. Sansa’s breath caught in her throat as goosebumps washed over her body, his slate eyes hard but open to her. She could feel his words bound him to her he was offering her more than she suspected he’d ever offered anyone else before. 

****

Her artic blue eyes dilated at his words, she didn’t shrink back from them, didn’t back away from his intensity. He sensed her fingers on his jaw before he registered the feeling, gently she traced the line of his jaw with her thumb, shifting slightly too long hair there, and undeterred by the ugly burn. Quiet surrounded him again like it had done days ago with her wrists, worry fell to the wayside and calm encompassed him, he heard nothing outside of the door he leaned against, the sounds of the maesters outside of the room stopped only her breathing a flushed cheeks remained. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” her statement startled a dark rumbling laugh from him, she  _ would  _ find romance in the murderous declaration. 

****

A great ruckus sounded outside of the stihl room forcing Sansa to step away and do the task she was actually there to perform. Sandor pulled open the door to see Joffrey standing at the doorway not dressed in his armor yet but his sword hung on his hip and his shield missing. “Hound,” He stepped aside and let the King through the door keeping to door open. “My Lady.”

****

“Your Grace,” She curtsied before him, “Should you not be with the war council?” 

****

“I came here to make sure these preparations were being made here. Battle has a lot of blood you know. Something I’m sure a  _ girl  _ doesn’t understand.” 

****

Unable to resist Sansa’s lips curled up in a faint smile, “Well, girls see more blood than boys your Grace.” He stepped closer to her she smelled the wine on him. She forced herself to not recoil as he reached for her gently cupping her face in his soft hand.

****

“Sansa… my pretty Sansa.” She stiffened, he had never called her that, never called her by her first name. Just how drunk was he? “I miss that sweet smile. I remember when you used to give it to me often. I told my mother, I said that’s the woman that will give me sons.” 

****

“Your Grace,” she said but he interrupted her.

****

“I’m sorry my lady,” she held her tongue at the many retorts that wanted to erupt from her mouth at that moment, “I’m sorry for leaving you in that damn alleyway. If your shield hadn’t protected you… that's why I gave him to you. Damn dog will always protect you. He loves you I think.” he said in a stage whisper, her eyes traveled to Sandor who was pointedly not looking at her. She remembered his words from last night when he thought her asleep. He did love her, and she had suspected he had for a long time.

****

“Your Grace, please you had to think of your court. I’m merely one of many.”

****

“You’re not. You’re by betrothed, my father would have beaten my senseless if he knew I left you out there.” Beaten him? King Robert had been a drunken letcher but she never thought of him as an abuser, “Beat me for less.” Joffrey leaned against the table she’d been arranging the baskets on.  “I really can’t wait to marry you, you are so pretty, I promise I’ll be gentle our first time, I won’t let any other man near you until you’ve given me my heir. Think I’ll name him after my father.” he rambled. 

****

“Your Grace you should be resting.” She tried.

****

“Rest? I’m the son of the great Stag! And I’ve decided another thing Stark. When I come back from this fucking battle I’m going to marry you. I’m done waiting, you’ll be my queen and give me a son as soon as the Mother allows it.” She couldn’t stop her flinch. “So  _ you  _ rest up my lady. I’m going to fuck you bloody after this battle, then marry you.” 

****

“Then come back to me Your Grace. Sober.” she forced herself to say.

****

“I’m not drunk.” he whined at her. 

****

“Of course not your Grace. But you should rest your troops will need you.” She gently guided him out of the room calling for a servant to help the King back to his rooms. Once he was gone she looked up at her shield, “What are we going to do now?” 

****

He took a lock of her hair in his hands twisting it about his fingers, “We will leave tonight. Pack what you need and hide it. Meet me in your rooms tonight get there as soon as possible.” He took off his cloak, “It’ll slow me down.”

****

“Come back to me Sandor.” She whispered taking his cloak his cedar smell nearly overwhelming her, she forced back her tears of worry for him, not knowing if this was the last time she would see him. He took one last long look at her as she mouthed,  _ I love you _ , before leaving her in the stihl room. She waited until she could not hear the chink of his chainmail before returning to her task. 

****

*****

Sandor made his way to the barracks where men were racing around getting ready, polishing armor, sharpening swords, drinking and pulling half naked woman into their laps-whatever it took to calm their nerves before a battle. He wouldn’t partake in his normal pre battle ritual of whoring and drinking, he was as relaxed as he could get, his little bird sating him. Instead he took a spot near the back and fingered the yellow fabric under his vambrace, as usual the men quieted as he walked through the barracks, they always did, they were always afraid of him. For once he paid it no mind, his mind at an odd peace that was never with him before a battle. She’d loved the necklace, and the heavy ornamentation looked … nice against her pale skin, his colors and sigil against her body put his seal on her. He had warred with himself, it felt like a mark of ownership on his part and he’d been afraid she would reject it. Instead she seemed to understand, seemed to cherish it. He told her he would own her and she’d agreed giving him everything he wanted and needed without question. 

****

“Drinks on me!” Bronn said a woman on his lap, when Sandor didn’t responded he leaned down and whispered to his whore, “I don’t think this one likes me.” When that failed to get his attention Bronn slapped the girl on her ass to make her move and went directly to him, “Cats got your tongue?” Bronn sat down heavily next to him and handed him a cup of brown ale. He took it and downed it gratefully, “Or should I say birdie?” 

****

“Fuck off Bronn.” He rasped.  

****

“Come on now, everyone could hear you giving the ice princess a present three halls down.” He stretched out taking another tankered from another passing girl. “Screamer that one.” 

****

“King’s gonna find out.” Bronn said tapping his vambrace where her favor was hidden wrapped securely about his wrist, “And no pretty singing can save you or her then. No cunt is worth that.” Sandor ripped his arm away from the man, “Nearly every damn maid is tittering about how you fucked that girl last night.”

****

“Fuck.” He scrubbed his hand down his face. Was that why the King was drunk when he came to see his little bird?

****

“Best run then, I promise I won’t tell the King until your gone.” He winked at Sandor before getting up and pursuing his whore again. 

****

“Clegane!” A shout came from the front of the barracks. “Get your ass up here. King wants you in his personal guard.” 

****

“Too late for that shit.” He rasped at the sellsword. 

****

When Sansa got back into her rooms she was relieved to see Shea already there. She quickly explained what the King had said to her and Shea paled. “I need to pack. Sandor is taking me away from here.” It didn’t take them long to formulate a plan, Shea would get her some plain dresses and after some harsh debating Sansa declined the Moontea, “It sent my Aunt Lysa insane Shea. I don’t want that!”

****

“You need something to prevent a child.”

****

Sansa’s brow furrowed, “Get me a moon stick from the Maesters office.” Moon sticks were a sort of calendar that a lady could mark her cycles and see if she would fall pregnant; while its invention had been to help conception most women used them to avoid pregnancy. With Shea satisfied, Sansa would collect all her important documents and the few possessions she wanted. 

****

She opened the hidden compartment once Shea had left that contained all her valuables. She shoved her gold and documents into a bag she’d found. She shoved the doll her father had given her, the chest, and the velvet bag into the burlap sack, then turned her attention to more practical items like needle and thread, her hair brush and socks. By the time Shea arrived with her plain dresses Sansa had packed Sandors clothes and found his gold, a considerable amount hidden in several places. Shea shoved her plain brown dresses in the burlap sack, finally Sansa retrieve the scrolls that Lord Varys and Baelish had given her. She carefully wrapped them again and shoved the bag in the cubby behind the tapestry. 

****

A knock on her door had her turning as the tapestry fell into place. Ser Swann stood at her doorway, “My Lady the King would like to see you before he goes into battle, then you may go to Maegor's holdfast.” If he had seen what they were doing he didn’t say anything. Likely he thought they were preparing just in case the city fell, nearly all the women were in the keep. 


	11. Blackwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle of Black Water Bay and its immediate aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: extreme violence and suicide idealization are in this chapter

The Throne room was busier than it should be, Sansa thought to herself as she and her maid were escorted into the cold barren room where she was hailed by Tyrion, “My Lady surely my sister has asked you to join her and the other highborn ladies in Maegor's holdfast.” 

“She has my Lord, but King Joffrey sent for me to send him off.” Sansa answered diplomatically. 

“Oh,” he dug through his breastplate and held out the lion necklace she’d torn from her neck days ago. Joffrey had given her many years ago, now she recognized it for what it was a mark of enslavement to the Lannister's,  “You lost this.”

She raised a red brow and just barely stopped the snarl from forming on her face, “My mistake.” She didn’t move to take the costly necklace from him. A silent communication continued between them, Sansa thought him clever, almost too clever for his own good. His mismatched eyes flashed in understanding and what she thought was a hit of satisfaction. 

“Sansa!” Joffrey called sounding remarkably sober now.  

Tyrion smirked and put the necklace back in his breast plate, “A great romantic... my nephew.” 

“Sansa! Come here!” She started to walk toward the King before turning back to the dwarf.

“I will pray for your safe return my lord.”

“Will you?” he gave her a confused look.

“Just as I pray for the Kings.” She turned back to the King stopping a few feet from him. He was dressed in Lannister red armor his sword still hanging on his hip. Behind him to her left Sandor stood there looking straight ahead and to her right Gregor, who was openly staring at her, no doubt the King had told him of his plans to bed her tonight. Her skin crawled at his beady black eyes. What was Sandor doing with the King? She noticed the Clegane brothers were as far apart from each other as they could get away with, neither of them relaxing a muscle in each others presence. Sansa forced her shoulders to relax and try to appear confident.

“That’s an ugly necklace.” Joffrey said to her. Sansa’s hands went to her necklace, fingering the stone forcing herself not glare at him.

“Its my second favorite gift for my name day your grace.” She said truthfully.

“And the first?”

“Why yours of course, my shield is perfect. I am sad you need him for this, you put him in the vanguard too.” She pouted in the way she knew he liked. 

Joffrey snorted, “Your King rides into battle. You should see him off with a kiss.” He drew his sword and held it in front of her, “My new blade, Hearteater I’ve named it.” She swore she heard Sandor snort, Joffrey’s face contorted into the vile visage he always had before he tormented her, “Kiss it.” She didn’t fight him and bent over and kissed the blade the heat of her lips leaving a slight mist on the cool blade.

“You’ll kiss it again when I return. Before I fuck you, you’ll taste my uncles blood.” 

Sansa made her voice go an octave higher playing the surprised girl, “Will you slay him yourself?”

“If Stannis is fool enough to come near me.” He said as if she had asked him an incredulous question. 

“So you’ll be outside the gates fighting in the Vanguard with my shield?” She nodded, turning her head so she would see Sandor's smirk.

“A king doesn’t discuss battle plans with stupid girls.” 

Giving a dramatic head nod, “I’m sorry your grace you’re right. I’m stupid.  _ Of course _ you’ll be in the Vanguard. They say my brother Robb always goes where they fighting is thickest.” she couldn’t hide her smirk or her pride in her brother, Joffrey leaned forward to speak but she continued “And he’s only a pretender.”  

“Your brothers turn will come. Then you can lick his blood off Hearteater too.” He sneered at her before he walked out of the throne room, she waited until he passed her before falling in step with Sandor. She couldn’t say anything to him, so she gently gripped his gauntleted hand squeezing it before stopping with her maid. It was a risk but she couldn’t help it. She needed one last touch of him, of his heat, and of his calloused palm against her hand. 

“Some of those boys will never come back.” her maid whispered clearly worried for her lover.

“Joffrey will, the worst ones always live.” Shea took her to Maegor’s holdfast.

****

Sandor stood behind the King, the Imp and next to his brother. The white sails of the enemy ships were plain against the black water and sky, he shifted rolling his shoulders. Tonight would be a long night. “Where is our fleet!” The King demanded.

“Away.” The Imp answered not looking back at his nephew.

“Why isn’t it here now! They are coming!” The Imp didn’t respond simply watched the black water. “Hound tell the hand that his king has asked him a question.” 

Sandor sighed, “The King has asked you a question.” 

Tyrion, never above playing childish games, said, “Ser Gregor, tell the Hound to the King that the Hand is extremely busy.” 

To which Gregor responded, “The Hand of the King would like me to tell you to tell the King…”

Joffrey interrupted, “If I tell either of them to cut you in half they will do it without a second thought!”

The Imp pursed his lips, “That would make me the quarter man, just doesn’t have the same ring to it.” He turned back to the water. A man lit a torch on fire near Sandor as he walked passed him Sandor backed away from the heat snarling at the man, who wisely moved the torch from one hand to the other away from the Hound. “Cut me in half and I won’t be able to give the signal. No signal, no plan. No plan and Stannis Baratheon sacks this city and takes the iron throne and puts your pinched little head atop a gate somewhere. It might be quite amusing but my head would be up there too, much like my head I don’t want to see it removed just yet.” Archers were called to their marks orders were shouted to knock the arrows but to hold their positions. Sandor gripped the end of the yellow fabric around his wrist, the tactile feel of it making him think of lavender oils, honey, and sweet kisses. 

“Hold fast!” The Imp called.

“What are you doing! We need to attack them!” Joffrey pointed out at the water.

“Hold Fast!” The Imp said again, glaring up at his nephew. 

A lone ship caught the King’s eye, “There's only one ship, where is the rest of them? Where are the rest of them!?” He demanded of his uncle, the Imp ignored the King. Sandor watched with confusion, what was the Imp doing with one ship against a fleet of hardened sailors? A  torch was handed to Tyrion, who took it and held it for mere seconds before dropping it off the wall. Sandor recognized the signal for what it was but a signal for what?

Suddenly green light illuminated the sky and he felt the heat of the fire from his place on the battlements. Sandor took a step back trying to get away from the intensity of it his brothers vile laugh snapped him back before the memory of the pain could resurface, “What's the matter puppy. Still afraid of the fire?” Stannis fleet, or the majority of it was burning as the green fire rolled across the bay. 

Sandor didn’t respond to his brother, instead feeling for the fabric at his wrist. No amount of blue eyes or red hair could push back the fear of the fire, he turned away and stepped down the battlements getting away from the sight of the fire as long as it stayed on the bay he would be fine. “Line up! Stannis is sending us fresh meat.” He shouted at the milling soldiers. 

****

Sansa took her seat next to the Queen as she was bade. She sipped her wine as the queen guzzled glass after glass freely giving her ruling advice, she told Sansa to make sure the small folk feared her. Sansa didn’t agree but kept her mouth shut, the queen mother was well on her way to being drunk and Sansa needed her there to be able to leave. If the Queen mother passed out she would be in charge of the ladies in this room, she would use that simple power to leave it and tell the ladies to do the same.

When she stood up to walk around she joined a praying circle even though she did not worship the seven. The ladies thanked her as the Queen called her over again, “Praying will get you nowhere little dove, what were you praying for anyway?” 

“For the gods to have mercy on us.” She answered diplomatically. 

“Oh, even me?”

“Of course your grace.”

“Even Joffrey?” Sansa took her spot next to the Queen and held out her cup for more wine, once it was filled she took a healthy sip. The women sat in silence, the queen understood the truth of Sansa’s plight even if the vicious man Sansa was engaged to was her own son. 

“He wants me after this battle your grace.” She had no idea why she confided in Cercie, of all women. She pondered that for a moment, of all people Cercie would understand why Sansa was so miserable having been married to Robert for so long. 

“He’s wanted you since he was ten and three. Oh don’t look so surprised, he has a lion’s needs.”

“What other qualities of a lion does his grace possess?” Sansa asked her.

“Careful little dove.” the Queen got progressively more and more drunk and started telling her about her childhood, about how she and Jamie were always so close, then how if her brother the Imp should prevail there would be a wedding to plan although it would have to be a small one given her traitor's blood.

“And if the city should fall?” 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” The Queen seethed at her, then proceeded to explain to her that she would never have a chance at seducing her good-brother. “Tears aren’t a woman's only weapon. The best one is between your legs, learn to use it.” She drained another cup. “Have you any notion of what happens when a city is sacked? No, you wouldn’t would you? Should the city fall these fine women would be in for a bit of a rape, half of them will have bastards in their bellies come morning.” She tipped her glass at her, “When a man’s blood is up anything with tits looks good. A precious thing like you would look very very good a slice of cake just waiting to be eaten. And no dog to save you then.” 

“Your Grace.” The doors of the holdfast flew open, ser Tyrell ran into the room.

“What news?” Cercei demanded Sansa leaned in to hear any events of the battle.

“The Imp has set the bay a fire hundreds of ships are burning, maybe more. Stannis’s fleet is destroyed.” Sansa wasn’t able to hide her shudder, she prayed Sandor was well away from it, “But…” he glanced at her the queen following suit.

Sansa gave an impatient hand gesture, “Go on,” she pressed.

“Stannis troops have landed outside of the city gates.” Cercei uncharacteristically grasped her hands; squeezing it, for a very brief moment the two of them stood waiting to hear of their loved ones. Like common women and royal alike, every woman wanted her man at home and in safety.  

“How many?” Sansa asked before the queen could respond. 

“Too many my lady.” 

“Where is Joffrey?” The Queen demanded before Sansa could demand a real number.

“On the battlements with lord Tyrion.” 

“Bring him back in the Keep.” they argued briefly where the queen overruled the knight. When she turned back to Sansa, “When I told you about Ser Ilyn earlier I lied.”

“I know.” Sansa said finishing her wine and demanded more, a plan forming in her mind. Her eyes slid to the curious women in the room. No doubt there would be rumors about what the queen and the knight had argued over. She handed the queen her goblet of wine, “Let’s hope he is as good as Joffrey says he is.” 

*****

“Any of these flaming fucking arrows come near me I’ll strangle you with your own guts.” Sandor shoved the archer away, not realizing it was the same man who had nearly stuck the torch in his face earlier that night. He took his place behind the mudgate, the sound of men screaming on the other side of the gate quieted, Sandor mentally stepped back and let the Hound claw his way forward - tireless, angry and bloodthirsty. The Hound rolled the round handle of the sword eager to cut down the fresh meat that Stannis was sending him. Meat, meat that was clad in pathetic armor for his sword to cut through and feed the savagery that was the Hound. He allowed his bloodlust and anger to combine, his fingers fisted around the worn leather of his swords hilt. Everything fell away, the king, his brother, even Sansa. Her soothing memory would only hinder him here.  

“Shove off.” Came a familiar voice next to him. 

“The fuck you doing here?” The Hound snapped at his brother. 

“Not my place to question Kings.” He said looking pointedly at his wrist, “Not yours neither.” 

The Hound sneered but kept his mouth shut. There was no little bird here, no peace only rage. He reveled in the only thing that would keep him alive long enough to get back to her, deep, black rage. The gate swung open and the hound shoved a few smaller men in front of him, “ **Any man dies with a clean sword I’ll rape his fucking corpse!** ” Gregor rushed out beside him. 

Gregor watched his brother from the corner of his eye, there was no denying his brother was ferocious, angry, and quick. He cut an enemy down in front of him, barely paying the enemy any attention as he gouged his brothers skill. How best to cut him down. Lord Baelish was a demanding master but smarter than his current charge and Gregor knew when to pick sides. Gregor had no finesse that his brother had. He used brute force to end his enemies. Men were now actively running from him, everyone ran from the Mountain. Slowly he turned toward his true victim.

The Hounds victims rushed at him, swords raised stupidly. He deflected the sloppy maneuver and slashed downward then used his shoulder to throw them to the ground, the next man tried the same. The Hound gripped his sword with both hands and swung it across his middle cleaving man in two. Hot sprinkles of blood dusted his face, another then another piled in his way, he deftly spun out of the way of one well placed thrust, kicking out at his next enemy he slashed another. Then blocked and parried the next attack, snarling he raised his sword at the crouching man and cut through him diagonally, more hot blood splashing across his face. 

He snarled at his next opponent who fell without a scream before him. A smell, faint and irritatingly familiar snapped his attention up, a man with a shield and ax was running toward him on fire. The orange flames licking at the soldiers skin, recognition of the smell of charred human flesh reached him in an instant. Sandor’s eyes went wide and he stepped back his sword hanging limply at his side. The flaming man raised his axe over his head determined to go down taking the famed warrior with him. 

Then he stopped and dropped to the mud his leather armor popping and crackling under the heat of the fire. Sandor's eyes followed the burning man down the traced the large warrior standing behind the fallen soldier. 

Gregor ran a man through with his blade then shoved the man off his sword letting him fall to the ground, spinning he saw his brother slashing a man in two. He saw the opportunity and took it rushing over to him he raised his sword and brought it down hard on the flaming man, he fell instantly but Gregor's sword kept going down and bit into Sandor’s pauldron. His brother stared at him wide eyed, just like he’d down when he was six, he half expected the same fat tears to burst from him. 

Sandor looked down at his pauldron, then back up at his brother. Instinct made him reach up with his good hand and pull the blade from him before it went any deeper into his shoulder.  “The fuck are you doing!” He snarled. The pain of the shoulder would burning and bright under Gregor's strength.

“Orders is orders.” Gregor spat back then he ripped his sword away and raised it above his head again. Sandor deflected the fall of the swing just barely, but being smaller than his brother he had the advantage of being quicker. Sandor spun and brought his sword to his brothers side, Gregor fell to his knees instantly, Sandor reared his fist and slammed it into his brothers nose. 

“Fuck your orders!” he snarled and kicked him down in the mud. Sandor raised his sword and the whistle of an arrow forced him to look around, fire was everywhere, men were lighting up like torches  and the fire laughed at him it taunted him. 

Oblivious to his brother now, the fire roared at him and suddenly he was a small boy playing at being a knight. The pain in his shoulder evaporated as the smell of his own burning hair and flesh slammed into him, he heard his own boyhood screams from every man around him. The fire wasn’t done with him, it hadn’t finished taking his victim when he was young, and now it has come back for him. He heard its yearning roar to consume his flesh and destroy him. 

Sansa’s image flashed in front of him, sitting in sunlight focusing on some embroidery. In his mind's eye she glanced up at him and smiled. He needed to get back to her. Sandor forced himself to move his feet to get away from the fire, he stopped under the battlements, rocking back and forth slightly. The sounds of the battle coming back to him in hazy spurts of noises and smells, “Someone get me a drink.” He shouted. A squire ran up to him and handed him a water skin. He tipped it to his lips then tasting the cool water he spat it out, “Fuck the water.  **Bring me wine** .” The squire quickly handed him the other bottle, he ripped open the cork with his teeth and took a long draft not caring some of the bitter liquid slid down his chin, his hand shaking as he gulped down the liquid. His eyes closed another image of the little bird flashed in his mind's eye, just as sweet -her sleeping face turned up toward him snuggling deeper into his chest. He was wrong, Sansa was everything and he needed her more now than anything. She would help him, she always had. 

He stalked toward the stairs leading up to the battlements, bloodied sword still in hand. He searched for his brother relaxing slightly when he didn’t see the monster, he hadn’t followed him here. Hopefully the fucker would die in the mud. The fire hadn't followed him and now it couldn’t get to him, it couldn’t pass through stone. He tried to roll his shoulder and felt the blood trickling down his front and back. She could fix that too right? What had she said weeks ago...something about stitches?

“Can I get you some Icemint?” The imp sneered from his place on the stairs, Sandor tilted his head back trying to make sense of what the imp was saying to him, “and a nice bowl of raspberries for you too?”

He pointed his sword up at the half man despite the screaming pain in his shoulder that came and went, “Eat shit dwarf.” 

Tyrion raised his voice, “You’re on the wrong side of the wall!” 

“I lost half my men. The Blackwaters on fire.” His voice cracked remembering the red and green flames that still lit the bay just on the other side of the wall. 

Joffrey screamed at him in his squeaky voice, “Dog! I command you to go back out there and fight!” He looked down at his sword now covered in not only the enemies blood but his brothers, how many people had he killed with it, he tried to remember. He knew the number once, he could remember every anguished face he plunged his blade through until now. Now they were all the same faces, everyone and no one. He shook his head, he couldn’t face the fire again. He only wanted his woman. 

“You’re royal guard. You must beat them back if we are going to take this city. Your Kings city.” Tyrion attempted to appeal to his honor and his loyalty. But Sandor was only loyal to his little bird. 

Sandor's mind focused instantly through the wine, through the fire,  _ the King,  _ the Hound growled at himself. The King had probably ordered his death, the  _ King  _ was the cause of all this war, he was the cause of all this- inbred fucker cowering behind his dwarf uncle, and he was the cause of his little birds endless grief and haunted eyes. Everything she had suffered was because of the Lannister's and the boy child calling himself King. “Fuck the Royal Guard, fuck the city,” he looked up and at Joffrey, “ **Fuck the King.** ” the petulant boy heaved his chest looking like he was about to cry or throw one of his infamous tantrums but didn’t say anything to him as Sandor left the battle. 

****

“Your Grace!” Ser Loras burst into the holdfast again a scant half an hour later, she only overheard one part of their conversation, “The battle is lost.” Her heart seized in her chest, did that mean Joffrey had yielded? 

No, she could still hear the battle outside, suddenly the queen pushed ser Loras down the ground grabbed her young son and raced out of the holdfast. Chaos broke out amongst the ladies and she used it to her advantage slipping out of the room and racing to her room, pulling the dagger from under her skirts as she went. She made it passed the throne room when she heard Joffrey yelling. “Leave me! Get back out there!!”

She pushed herself against a dark corner, hoping he would not see her. He raced up the hallway then stopped three feet from her. “I can smell your lavender oils Sansa.” He said. She stepped out holding the dagger behind her back. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Maegor's holdfast?”

“As much as you are supposed to be in the battle.” 

“My mother sent for me.” he defended. 

Sansa gripped the dagger in her hand, if the battle was lost then her Hound was dead, why else would Joffrey be here? If her Hound was dead she had nothing left here in the city. “You’re a coward for hiding behind her skirts when you need to defend your people, your city.” She spat at him. He grabbed her and shoved her against the wall, her head knocking painfully against the solid stone. 

“What do you know of war you stupid bitch. You think just because your pretender brother plays at being a King he’ll actually win?” 

She spat in his face, “He’ll beat you. Coward. My brother is more of a King than you could ever hope to be, he is my only king. You didn’t even draw your sword, tell me did you hide behind the Hound or did you hide behind your uncle?” he slapped hard enough to snap her head to the side. She shoved at him “Get off of me!” 

“I told you I would fuck you tonight, my mother can wait.” He ripped her skirts, easily lifting her off her the ground, Sansa gripped the dirk as he tried to force his way between her legs. “One sword will have blood on it.” he snarled at her. 

Sansa gripped the back of his head and his short cropped hair pulling it back so she could whisper in his ear, “You sent my Hound to his death!” She growled, “Old Gods take me now, my Hound took care of that for you.” he turned his head to look at her in astonishment, she plunged the dirk into his side. He let her go immediately, as her feet touched the ground she ripped the weapon from his side. Joffrey stumbled to the ground kneeling before her. “You really think I would let you between my legs after you killed my father? After you kill my Hound!” She grit her teeth to stop from screeching. Unable to resist Sansa raised the dagger again and plunged it into his stomach. A black rage consuming her, this was for her father, her brothers, her Hound and her almost forgotten sister. 

“I’ll have your head for that.” He ground out gasping. 

“That is the last time you will ever EVER hit me!”  _ When a man is down, kick him. _ Sansa kicked him so he fell to the ground on his back, she stood over him listening for the guards and pointed the weapon at his neck, “Scream and I’ll kill you.” He whimpered under the point of the dirk already covered in his blood, “This war started because  _ you  _ killed my Father, my brother will end it and  _ your  _ head along with your bitch mothers will be the only one on spikes. I hope Stannis saves Robb the trouble of killing you inbred swine.” He held up his hands and cried like he had done with Arya all those years ago. Unable to help herself she squatted over him, “Now you have a scar from my sister and me. Try to wear them with pride  _ Your Grace.  _ May the Stranger take his time bringing your soul to the seven hells _. _ ” She should kill him, should end this stupid war with a stroke of Sandor’s dirk.  

Still she hesitated. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t bring herself to end another human being’s life her very core railing against it. She’d already done enough stabbing him twice. Breathing heavily now with guilt and shame she grit her teeth. Joffrey wheezed at her, thinking quickly Sansa summoned the strength she had and hit him in the temple where the skull was weak knocking him out instantly. 

She left his limp body there and ran down the hall where the guards thankfully let her pass without issue not seeing the dagger, surely they could never think she would ever hurt the King as demure as she was. She ran through the twists and turns of the castle the sounds of the battle fading then coming into sharp focus as she passed a window.  Sansa reached her room, watching the door open and bolted the door and dropped the dagger as she slid down against it. Her chest heaving up and down, what had she just done? She’d attacked the King! Hyperventiling breaths quickly gave way to scared tears. The battle was lost, Sandor was dead and now she had just forfeited her own life. How could she help her brother now? How could she help anyone if she as dead? Panic seized her, Joffrey would not kill her quickly.  Sansa picked up the dagger, if Sandor was dead then… Sansa picked herself up off the floor and made her way to the balcony. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to plunge a dagger into herself but she could jump. Sansa dropped the dagger and stepped up on the small table then on the railing. Her heart was pounding in her chest threatening to burst from her ribcage. Below where the waves of the back water and further out she saw the red glow of fire and something glowing green. At least Sandor wouldn’t have to endure the fire. 

A sudden rush of emotions overpowered her logic and hot tears ran down her face in stark contrast to the cold wind lashing her face. “I don’t want to die.” She whispered to herself. But the latter was worse, so much worse. Hell was King’s Landing. Without Sandor it was unbearable. Her hair whipped around face, physically feeling her heart beginning to crack, “Gods forgive me.” She stepped off the ledge. 

****

Shea disentangled herself from the ladies panicking at the sudden loss of the queen and Lady Sansa. She ran down the halls avoiding any hall that were overcrowded and the halls that had screaming Maesters. She needed to get to her lady, there was only one spot for it. Shea headed to Sansa’s room. 

****

Sandor opened the door to his shared room. His little bird would know to come here. They could leave tonight, take stranger and just go. Maybe to Mareen? He shut the door, before he heard a soft cry coming from the balcony. Glancing in  the direction he saw Sansa standing on the edge of the railing. She stepped off.

“NO!” Shouting ran to her, his body ignoring all the pain from the injuries he’d already sustained. 

Hard strong arms wrapped around her middle and yanked her back. She smelled blood, wine, and anger. She fought back, elbowing her attacker in the jaw as he brought her back into her room. “Let me go!” she demanded. In response she was thrown on the bed and pinned against the soft covers. 

“What the  **FUCK** are you thinking!” He snarled at her. 

“Sandor?!” She stopped struggling immediately. With his hands pressed against her wrists she felt her pulse in her hands.

“Answer the question! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING!” He roared and Sansa flinched. 

“I….I’m sorry.” More hot tears slid down her face, “I thought you were dead. I attacked the King.” 

“Little bird.” he pressed his forehead to hers, “Fucking hells.” 

“I thought you were dead,” She whispered, “Without you Joffrey would…”

“Don’t even say it.” She smelled the wine on his breath, carefully she lifted her head and kissed him gently. “I’ll kill the fucker for even thinking about it.” 

The door swung open again from nowhere Sandor threw a knife, Sansa had no idea where he had been hiding it or that he even had it. The intruder ducked just in time for the knife to fly into the wood of the hallway wall and stick.  “Hound!” Shea’s foreign accent filled the room. 

“Seven Hells.” He growled, standing up straight, “Get in here and shut the door.” 

“Where will we go?” Sansa asked him.

He was silent for a while, pulling the wineskin from his belt, “Someplace that isn’t burning. North might be, could be. Your brother maybe.” looking down his eyes narrowed and reached out to touch her tummy, it was cold and wet, “Who’s blood is this little bird?”

“I...I stabbed Joffrey he tired to...” his eyes hardened and the fear in his eyes mixed with rage. “He didn’t. I promise he didn’t. I …  Sandor if Stannis wins, he’ll keep us safe. We’re both traitors to the crown now.” 

“Sansa, don’t you want to go home?” 

“Yes but he won’t hurt us the Stark's and the Baratheon's have been allies for generations. If we swear fealty…” He pulled her up so she was on her feet her upper arms in his grip. She flinched at the strength of it. “Sandor!” She tried to get out of his hard grasp.

“Look at me!” he rasped at her, she snapped her eyes back to his now nearly black,  his face sweaty and blood covered the smell of wine on his breath thick,  “Stannis is a killer, the Lannister's are killers, your father was a killer, your brother is a killer.” He paused for a brief second as he swallowed, “Your sons will be killers someday. The world is built by killers, so you better get used to looking at them.” he stood back and sniffed, casting his gaze between them. 

“You won’t hurt me.” She said not sure if she was reassuring him or herself.

“No, little bird I won’t hurt you.” she reached up to his face and cupped his cheek giving him the soft touch she thought he needed. 

“Let’s go then.” She went to the tapestry and took the burlap bag from the cubby behind it. It was light holding just a few changes of clothes for both of them, scrolls and a few precious items and their gold. 

“Help your lady change Shea.” He said softly. Shea changed her dress quickly glad for the simplicity of her dress into the plain brown one of a servant maid and slung her black cloak around her shoulders.

“I will let the others know to clear your path my lady.” she said pulled the last of the strings in place. “Get home my lady.”  When she came back from the screen Sandor had the bundle she had packed under his arm and made the room look like it had been ransacked. 

“Let’s go little bird.” 

***

Sandor managed to get them to the stables, telling her to keep her head down as they passed the heads on spikes. They raced to a large stall at the end where a large black cursor was weaving back and forth agitated by the sounds of battle so close to him. “Stay back until I calm him down.” He dropped the bag and opened the stall holding out his hand to let the horse smell him. The horse seemed to calm immediately when Sandor touched him, his ears flicking back then forward. The stallion bounced up and down from one hoof to the other. “There now.” He said in a calm voice petting the horses side, the horse swung his head and head butted Sandor’s shoulder he winced in pain. 

Sansa took a step forward wanting to see what caused him injury, “Stay back.” He ordered her while scratching the horse’s sides calming him, murmuring softly the animal calmed down. Despite being pressed for time she understood that this horse would be dangerous if he wasn’t calmed down. It gave her time to reflect on what just happened. She was about to kill herself, plunge herself into the blackwater to escape Joffrey, to escape her own actions. Looking down she still felt the tackiness of his blood on her hand and wrist. Gods what if she killed him? Bringing her hand to her mouth she reveled in the simple sensation of her fingers touching her face, had Sandor been only a few seconds later she would be dead by now. Again he saved her life. Squeezing her eyes shut she decided she needed to tell him about her gift. She needed to trust him completely and totally. 

The hairs on the back of Sansa’s neck rose as she felt someone watching her. She spun around ready to call Sandor but saw Edrick there a dirk in hand, his face covered in blood and his armor torn and cut. “Thank the Gods you’re alive my lady!” He was bleeding from a half a dozen wounds. “When I saw the dirk I thought you’d been hurt or worse.”

Sansa sighed in relief, Edrick was alive. Her last Stark man could come home. “It’s Joffrey's blood, saddle a horse. We need to leave now.” She said knowing she could trust him. Sandor came to her side grabbing the burlap bag, the other man was simply staring at Sansa. He squinted his eyes and saw who it was. He wasn’t moving, not responding to Sansa’s orders.

“Saddle that horse!” Sandor barked the order pointing at a brown mare, immediately Edrick jumped to do as he was ordered. Sandor grabbed her arm and hauled her into his horses stable grimacing he lifted her onto the horse and swung up behind her. 

They’re flight from the city was hindered as thousands of commoners flooded the streets to see the green fire in the sky and loot shops. “Pull your hood up.” He said in her ear. She did as she was bade as they came to the gates. 

“Clegane!” came a gold cloaks shout, “You should be at the battle.” 

“The battle is lost,” He yelled back, “Get the hell out of my way.” 

“We cannot let anyone pass!” From beside him he heard the twang of a bow the arrow rushed passed him and sank into the gold cloaks throat. 

Edrick knocked another arrow and pointed it at the other, “Unless you wish to have the same fate as your friend, open the bloody gate.” The gold cloak looked from his companion to Edrick then back to his companion. 

“Open the gate!” He shouted. As soon as there was enough space Sandor, Edrick, and Sansa raced out with thousands of commoners. 


	12. Magic and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Morning After BBB

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my attempt at sweet I hope you all enjoy it

They rode until dawn, the pinks and yellows banishing the red and green of the night. The sounds of the horse hooves thundering over the wooded grounds ringing in Sandor's ears, away, they just needed to get away from that fucking city. Edrick finally stopping them by called out behind them, needing to break for a few minutes. Sandor stopped his horse grumbling but slid off his horse, pulling Sansa down as well. He winced as he set her down.

 

“Let me see it.” finally seeing the jagged cut on his pauldron in the bright early rays of dawn. Emotion was not normally something to mix with healing, healing was often painful and mean gruesome even; but with Sandor it was different. She couldn’t hide her worry for him. 

 

“See what?” He snapped at her. He didn’t have time for her to worry about him not about a tiny scratch that would heal in a few weeks. She reached under his arm and pulled the leather traps and gently pulled the metal from his shoulder the metal sticking inside of his wound. Not giving him a chance to deny her the look she wanted. 

 

“Sandor you should have told me you were this hurt!” She worried just like he didn’t want her too. 

 

“What were you going to about it? Sew it up nice and pretty with flowers? How about another dog.” Sansa smacked him, the cracking sound echoed throughout the woods surrounding them. “Sansa.” He growled his warning at her dealing with the expected bolt of heat her slap had sent to his groin.

 

“Stop it!” She snapped back. “Kneel, so I can get to the wound.” She ordered him. 

 

“Kneel? I don’t have time for you to clean and boil needles and find silk thread.” Icy blue eyes glared up at him as he snarled down at her. 

 

“She won’t need it.” Edrick called from behind her lacing his pants up after making his water. “The sooner you kneel the sooner we can get back on our horses.” Sansa handed Edrick Sandor’s pauldron asking him to fix the armor piece as best as he could. 

 

“How the fuck are you going to stich this up without a needle.” He rasped at her. 

 

“Do you trust me?” Aggravated Sandor nodded and knelt in front of her, “I’m not going to stitch it. Are you bleeding from anywhere else?” 

 

“No. What the fuck you mean you’re not going to stitch it? How else will you close a gash?” 

 

“Stannis must have a very talented warrior to get you on your shoulder.” She mumbled carefully removing a sliver of metal from his dirty wound, she could feel the heat emanating from it already. It was infected and would get worse if she didn’t do this.

 

“It was Gregor.” He growled, she dragged her teeth across her lower lip taking in the information, “Fucker fell when I hit him in the side.” Sandor gritted his teeth through her ministrations on his shoulder, “With my luck the bastard will live.” 

 

“This will hurt.” She took his hands and place them on her hips knowing from experience men would grab at anything when she healed them and she preferred to know where the pain would come from when they did squeeze her. Then she placed her hands on his bloody shoulder, closing her eyes and willing the wound to heal itself. He was worthy, she told the magic, he wasn’t a knight but he’d saved her countless times. The magic agreed with her, as it had last time and flowed up her body, causing her fingers to tingle when she had enough she pushed it onto Sandor. Tiny bits of metal she couldn’t reach on her own pushed through his skin with dark already infected blood seeping into his tunic.  Through her mind's eye she singled out every bit of poison and metal and drew it forward out of him. 

 

Sandor was about to snap at them for wasting time when the sensation of cool rushing water came over the wound followed by the burning ache of healing. He felt his muscles and tendons snap back together, a process that should have taken months to heal with a Maester’s skilled knowledge. She was right the pain of his body healing at the rapid pace hurt, he dug his fingers into her fleshy hips and pressed his forehead to her chest unable to stop the growl of pain coming from his lips. Finally she lifted her hands and a soothing coolness came over the wound like a pain numbing balm. 

 

Her hands rested on the back of his head stroking his dirty hair from his face. What the fuck was that? What the fuck had just happened? He rolled his shoulder testing it, there was no pain, not even a slight ache. “What the fuck?” He whispered against her chest. Magic wasn’t real. 

 

“I should have told you earlier. There just didn’t seem to be a right place or time to do it.” Sandor stood up forcing her hand to fall away from the back of his head. “There will still be a scar.”

 

“Little Bird what...how?” Was this what Daris had been talking about, her father?  _ Don’t let them find out. Clegane, promise it. I know there’s honor in you. Keep my girls safe!  _ “This is what your father was talking about wasn’t it?”

 

“What?” She knitted her brows, clearly confused by his abrupt change in subject. 

 

“The day he died, he told me to protect you and your buggering sister. Not to let anyone find out. Made me promise.” Sansa looked down at her bloodied hands rubbing them together, she looked anywhere but his face, “Look at me.” He rasped at her taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger gently, tentatively she looked up at him through his lashes. “Never believed in magic. Blood, steel, pain, and fire that shits real. But Magic?”

 

“I’ve been able to do it since I was a child.” She told him, “My father thought it was smart to teach me about the body how it works so I can heal those who need it most. Only use the gift when absolutely necessary.” 

 

“Have you used it on me before?” He demanded.

 

She toed the dirt below her, “Yes, you would have died if I didn’t.”  

 

“We need to go.” Edrick said mounting his horse, the sounds of horns blew in the distance and no one knew who those horns belonged to. Likely Stannis would be after the Stark Princess to use her as a bargaining chip, and Sandor… if they were caught he expected his life to be forfeit. Sandor put his pauldron back on and lifted her to the saddle following behind her.  

 

“When?” he demanded as he kicked his horses sides forcing the animal to walk.

 

“A few years ago, at King Roberts Nameday Tourney,” She told him the story: 

 

The day was a hot one and Sandor had been ordered to participate in tourney, to represent house Clegane as his brother was off on some sort of mission. He fought until the last man standing, a Stark banner man. The battle had gone as he’d expected, the Stark man was to honorable to fight dirty and he’d won easily but not before the man had delivered a brutal blow against his face a dagger slashing down his face and piercing his eye. After his opponent fell he’d fallen to the ground the world going black. 

 

He’d woken in a soft bed with soft hands on his face, he remembered seeing her red hair, the memory of their conversation slammed back into him. “Little Bird.” he rasped at her. 

 

“Good Morning Ser.” 

 

“I’m not a ser.” 

 

“You are to me.” She’d said softly, she pressed her hand to his forehead, “You’re burning up with fever.” he tried to jerk back she shouldn’t have to touch his ugly face. 

 

“Sansa, you need to leave him alone.” A deep male voice said, her father Sandor thought to himself.

 

“He’ll die if Maester Pycelle keeps putting that nasty poultice on his eye. The infection will go straight to his brain.” 

 

“You can’t do that here Sansa. It’s to risky.” He didn’t remember what words were next as he’d passed out again. 

 

“That was a stupid dangerous thing you did.” Her father was clearly upset, “Why would you risk it on him?”

 

She answered softly, “The magic clearly thinks he’s worthy.” She said sharper than he would have thought her capable of, “If the gift thinks he’s worthy maybe you should too.” Why did his eye no longer hurt? There was an odd silence filled with tension.

 

“You’re right,” came the gruff response. “If the old gods believe him worthy it is not my place to question them.”

 

“He’s special Father. Sweet in his own way, gentle when he needs to be, and Gods knows he’s strong.” Her fingers moved his filthy hair from his face, “I don’t know.” She said again at her father's exasperated sigh. “He’s just special.” 

 

“Do not get attached Sansa, he’s the Lannister’s man.” Sandor moved his hand and found a delicate knee under it.

 

“ _ Shhh _ , he’s awake.” She whispered. “How do you feel?” She asked him as he blinked open his eyes, his eyes focused on her freckles and brilliant red hair lastly her bright blue eyes. He reached up still finding his body weaker than it should be and curled a lock of her hair around his fingers. Seven hells she was beautiful. 

 

“Better.” Sansa smiled sweetly down at him, not bothering to pull her hair from his grasp, “Damn stupid luck you’re marrying that cunt.”

 

“What?” She asked him clearly confused. 

 

“He won’t take care of you, he won't love you, he’ll hurt you. Get away from him Little Bird, fly away. Go home.” Then he’d fallen asleep again, recovering from the fever. Her father had pulled her from the room and when Sandor woke he didn’t remember a damn thing. But she told him  the rest.

 

“Father trusted you with everything after that. Especially me and Arya...” 

 

Sandor gripped the reins as she told him to story, he remembered only parts of that day. Remembered the nasty smelling poltises the Maesters had pressed to his eye, when he woke he expected another scar and the loss of his vision but only the scar had occurred and never one to question luck he simply went about his duties with faint memories of her smiling over him. Twice she’d saved his life with her magic and at least once at a great danger to herself. He wrapped his arm around her middle she leaned her head back against his shoulder. Another memory surfacing this one just after her father died. Joffrey had ordered him to pick her up and pull her from her bed. She’d been so light and soft in his arms he almost hadn’t put her down into the tub the King had ordered him to drop her in, but it was his first glance at her body. He’d seen the rose color of her nipple through her wet chemise before she covered herself. 

 

“Take her to the Maesters tower after she’s clean.” The King demanded of him. Her maid had ordered him out of the room while she was washed, by the time she had come out, he could see that she’d been crying again. 

 

“Stop crying,” he snapped at her, “It’ll make it worse.”

 

“How could it be worse!” She demanded, “My sister is gone, my father is dead and I can’t go home. They wont even let me see his body, only his head.” a fresh wave of tears burst from her. Sandor gripped her arms and pinned her against the wall gently.

 

“He wants your tears, don’t you understand that? He wants to make you miserable.” 

 

“He has.”

 

“Don’t let him see it. Sing your songs little bird and show him the fear he wants to see when he wants it. Play this damn game with him, you’re smarter than him. Play him.” He growled softly in her ear, “So stop crying. Stop being weak and fight back with what you have.” She sniffled and nodded at him, throughout the years he’s helped her why shouldn’t now be anything different. It was his damn luck she took him up on that advice and could now play any man like a fiddle, making him dance to her tune when and if she pleased. 

 

“Not you.” She’d whispered to him, “You’ve been there, always.” She tried to touch his face again, just to brush her thumb along his jawline but he’d backed away instantly. 

 

“Don’t be stupid girl, you should be scared of me most of all.”  the sudden weight of her pressing against him brought him back to the present. He wondered if her magic could have saved her father, that would be something, bringing a man back from the dead. Sandor lifted his thighs slightly trapping her sleeping from against him. 

 


	13. Underfoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major events happening in this chapter, will Sandor see the marriage contract, is Joffrey alive? Edrick reacts to their relationship and we get to see Arya! #lilassassinvibes

Joffrey woke on a hard wooden table his armor off and Grand Maester Pycelle applying some sort of potion to his wound on his abdomen. “Oh...your grace.” He said noticing his eyes were open. 

“What happened? Did we win?” He asked groggily.

“We did.” Joffrey turned his head slowly to see his Grandfather. Tywin Lannister was dressed in his customary outfit of red, gold and a frown. “Your mother will be happy you’ve finally woken.” 

“His grace needs rest.” Pycelle said.

“His Grace needs to tell me why he ran from the battle.” Tywin answered. He pulled up a chair and sat down waiting for his answer. Joffrey closed his eyes and thought back.

“My mother called me...”

“You’re a man grown, or so you keep telling everyone, and should have stayed on the battlefield. Your uncle would have, hell even Tyrion stayed until his nose was cut off.” The older Lannister chuckled to himself, “So tell me why you don’t have a quarter of the courage your half man uncle does? And how did you get these bloody wounds?” Tywins voice echoed in the oddly cavernous room. 

Icy angry blue eyes, red hair and freckles flashed through his mind. He’d been about to take what was his by rights, about to make her his with one simple thrust. She would have thanked him afterward, all the women he took to bed did, but then she’d told him she’d given her prized maidenhead to the Hound. Of every man in the Keep, the  _ bloody Hound _ , he whispered. “That Stark bitch stabbed me.” 

“Sansa?” Tywin asked in disbelief, “The soft little girl you beat into submission everyday since you stupidly cut of her father's head?” 

“You cannot talk to me like that! I am a king!” He tried to snap, but it came out more of a hoarse whisper. 

Tywin stood up and loomed over his grandson, “A king who’s been bested by two  _ girls _ . Both of them Starks. You have made powerful enemies of those girls and their family. You’re not a King at all.”

“They are just girls! What can they do?”

“They can marry, secure alliances. Do you really think war is won on a battlefield? No, it’s won by virgin cunt.”

“She’s not a virgin.” Joffrey spat out.

‘Oh did you take her? She’s your wife by rights then.”

“No, the bloody Hound did. How could she just...just let him between her legs? She was going to be queen!” 

“It doesn’t matter now. She attacked you and is a traitor to the crown as all Starks are. We’ll get a bounty out on both of their heads.”

“No, I want that bitch brought back to me alive. She needs to suffer.” 

_______________

Joffrey limped his way to Sansa’s rooms, the nicest rooms she’d ever had and already found his grandfather there. A blue garment in his hands, Joffrey snatched it from his Hand. The red stains near the bottom told him she was telling him the truth. “Stains on Clegane's bed too.” Joffrey gripped the shift tightly in his hands.

“What else is missing?” Tywin asked as his grandson held the garment in his hands. 

“Your grace,” Lord Varys bowed from his spot in the middle of the room. “It would seem anything of value was taken. But,” he produced a scroll, “I was able to find this under her bed. It seems she has been in communication with her brother.”

“Which brother?” Tywin asked, crossing the room and taking the scroll.

“Jon Snow, I must confess I think it unlikely he has anything to do with his half brother Robb. He’s on the wall.” 

“Doesn’t matter. Snow is beyond our reach anyway with him belonging to the wall.”

Joffrey stared down at the blue material still bunched in his hands, why had she left him? What made the Hound such a better choice? No, Sansa would never willingly go with Clegane. Never.  _ Then why did she sound so smug when she told you she had been fucked.  _

*****

Sandor and Edrick rode their horse’s hard, Sandor had told her one evening that his horses name was Stranger which had amused his little bird to no end. Tonight she’d had his cloak in her lap sewing their gold and her jewelry in it. In her own cloak she had sewn the documents of her identity, monies, and marriage contract. Neither men made a comment on her prudent decision to hide the items. Sandor had caught, skinned and gutted two rabbits while Edrick made the campfire. It was a brief moment of reprieve for the three of them, Sansa hummed as she sewed not entirely aware of it but it seemed to relax the men. Sansa was surprised when Edrick and Sandor seemed to get along with each other, talking quietly about this and that as they raced away from King’s Landing. Sansa for her part finally felt free, despite being hunted down. She was a traitor and couldn’t be happier for it. As she tugged on a knot in the thread Sandor finally asked her, “Were you born with it?” at her confused look, “The healing gift.” 

“No.” She finally untangled the knot before continuing, “I’ve never felt comfortable in septs. The Seven seem overly large and tolling, but the Godswood. That's where the magic left in Westeros lives. That’s where I got this gift.” She told him of how Jon had fallen and how she had met the Child of the Forest. “She gave me the gift because she couldn’t fix my brother.”

“Because he was a bastard?” Edrick asked. 

Sansa looked up at Edrick, “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you. I promised my father I would never tell a living soul.”

“Why?” Sandor asked her.

“Because of how dangerous it would be for him. Especially if Robert found out.”

“Robert’s dead.”  Sandor said turning the rabbits over the fire, keeping his distance from the heat with a longer stick than was necessary. 

She fidgeted, he was right and the two men in front of her would never give away the secret her father had kept to himself, “Jon’s not a bastard.” Edrick snapped a look at her, “He’s my cousin, My aunt Lyanna married and Jon is her son.”

“What?...Who did she marry?”

“When did he tell you this?” Sandor asked.

“Just before he died. I don’t see why he would lie. He made me promise to tell Jon.” Sansa fiddled with the fabric in her lap, “Jon’s father is Rhegar Targeryan.” Edrick sucked in his breath as Sandor snorted, “She married him in Dorne, Jon’s really the heir to the Iron Throne.” 

“And your father let him go to the wall?” Edrick snapped.

“It was the wall or death, Robert was still alive. Now he’s taken his vows it doesn’t matter. Besides, the Dragon Queen has set her sights here and she has three dragons if the rumors are true. I would rather be on the side of Dragons than not.” She said making a knot in her thread.  Sandor scratched his chin under his beard, the dragon queen coming to Westeros made things complicated. He knew she’d reached out to his little bird with the marriage contract, he knew where she had put it, he wondered if he could get it out and scratch his name on it before dragging her to a Godswood. She would tell him to stop if he was pushing her too far and too fast.  But a part of him, the deep needy part he rarely showed was unwilling to let her go, she  **would** be his wife. Magic witch or not, she was his and he was hers. 

****

 For two more weeks they outpaced their pursuers only stopping to rest when Stranger was too tired and slick with sweat. The war horse, thankfully, was used to brutal paces and took them north quickly and they were lucky to encounter no Lannister patrols, luckier still when they entered a small town on Mooton lands that afternoon. “Please tell me that’s an inn.” she said on their second week, much to Sansa’s relief her moon had come upon her making her tired but grateful there would not be another complication to deal with. She had carefully marked her cycle on the moon stick and vigilantly counted the days before her next moon, keeping a secret log of how often they lay together, he’ taken her once and roughly away from Edrick one evening. Pinning her against a tree and demanding she wrap her legs around his waist. Quick as it had been it was enough for Edrick to find them and discover just how close the two of them really were. Edrick had been confused by her choice but let it be,  _ “Love is love my Lady. You don’t get to choose who you fall for.”  _

“Aye little bird, that’s an inn.” He urged the horse to the small stables and slid off the beast pulling her down. “Pull up your hood, my face is recognizable enough.” She did as he asked her. Sandor stabled Stranger paying the stable lad a silver stag to make sure no one came near their horses and that the filly and stallion were to be stabled together for the night and for extra oats- telling Sansa they needed the extra food, but Sansa knew the truth. Sandor simply liked his horse that much. He slung a bag over his shoulder and pulled her into the crowded inn, Edrick following behind Sansa. They made their way to the counter here Sandor got the inn keeps attention, “Two rooms.” he growled out. 

“And a very hot bath.” Sansa added he frowned down at her. 

“How many nights?”

“Just the one.” he rasped.

“Suppose you two and your lady will want dinner too?” Sandor nodded and pulled out his coin pouch, the innkeeper named his price and ordered one of his serving girls to bring up a bath for Sansa. “Give the lass some time to get the water hot and bring it up. My wife will bring your supper.”  They found a relatively empty table and sat at the end. Hot stew and bread was brought to them as well as ale. Having not eaten for the better part of two days they fell upon the meal and Sansa thought she had not tasted anything so divine as the simple stew. 

Sansa watch in a mix of horror and amusement as the men tore through their meal making a mess of crumbs and spilled carrots, Sansa spooned the stew into her own mouth pushing her ale toward Sandor having never liked the taste. “Do you know where we are going from here?”

“Your brother is at Riverrun, they’ll want to see you.” He said looking down at his food.

“Robb won’t be happy to see me with you.” He snorted at her understatement. “Do you think he’ll let you stay?”

“Doubt it.” He picked up his ale and drained it, when he put down the tankard she grabbed his hand with her own. He snapped his gaze to her a serious expression on her face and fierceness in her eyes.

“I won’t let them send you away.”  She squeezed his hand. He stared at her for a long moment before going back to his meal not taking his hand from hers. They finished the rest of their meal in silence, the hot food making her sleepy.

“I’ll vouch for you, I grew up around Robb. Between his sister and a Stark man, he’ll at least listen.” Edrick said through a mouthful of bread and stew. “You kept her safe, kept your promise to Lord Stark.” Sandor shifted uncomfortably he wasn’t used to people rushing to his defense. 

“Your rooms and bath ser. Last door on the right,” the innkeeper's wife came by and handed him the keys. “Please let us know if there is anything else we can help you with tonight.”

“I’m not…” Sansa squeezed his hand stopping him.

“Thank you.” She stood up taking the keys from the woman, then handing one to Edrick.

“Go up and take your bath woman.” He said to her.

“You smell worse than I do.” she tugged on his hand. He offered little protest after that following her to their rooms, it was true he did reek, but the chance to see her naked was more than tempting, and two weeks was too long to not see her without clothes. Every night he pulled her into his arms but couldn’t take it any further than heated kisses with Edrick next to them, his need for her had only taken over once and that resulted in her utter embarrassment. The reason for his aching sack simply raised his cup as they went up the stairs. It was a small room with the narrow bed taking up one side of the room, Sandor bolted the door after they entered needing the silence of just them safely locked in a room, he dropped the bags and turned to see the surprisingly large tub filled with steaming water. Sandor leaned against the wall as he watched her pull off her head scarf and unbraiding her long firey hair, she shook out the long tresses and began to strip off her simple dress, her corset came next then shift. Sandor’s eyes roamed over the curves and valleys of her body, she bent over and removed one stocking giving him a perfect view of her ass and traces of red between her thighs. His manhood hardened in his pants as he watched her strip off the other. She stretched turning giving him a perfect profile of her breast, if she were going to tease him he’d take what she offered. He started to strip off his armor as she slid into the water with a grateful moan.  

Sansa dunked her head in the water wetting her dirty hair surfacing she searched for some soap. She was met with the image of Sandor pulling off his tunic and unlacing his pants shucking them down his legs. He stepped out of them coming toward her, she leaned back resting her arms on the wide tubs side, “Sit forward Sansa.” She looked up at him through her lashes making him wait, some part of her wanting to tempt him into losing control like he had the first night they were together. It felt like forever since he had held her, kissed her, loved her. Sandor raised his eyebrow at her, “Move forward.” He traced the side of her face with his knuckles, finally she gripped the sides of the tub and slid forward and he got into the tub behind her.

His long legs slid along hers and he pulled her back to his chest. She relaxed against him simply enjoying the heat of the water lapping at her breasts. “Let me wash you.” She gave a non committal answer as she felt the wet cloth pressed to her skin scrubbing the dirt from her. He dragged the cloth across the swell of her breasts using it as a distraction to draw her nipples into hard peaks, she gripped his knees under the water and leaned back into him pushing her chest out slightly. He moved lower leaving her sensitized and frustrated. Sandor chuckled darkly at her frustrated huff, “Next time, do what I tell you when I tell you too. Now lean forward.” He rasped in her ear, she did so immediately, “Good girl.” He gently scrubbed her back free of dirt.

Sandor lathered his hands and worked the soap in her hair massaging her scalp, she moaned under his fingers. After he rinsed her hair she managed to turn to face him, and took the soapy cloth from him. “Have you ever had someone bath you my Lord?”

“I’m not a fuckin’ lord. And no.”

She pressed the soapy cloth to his chest, he shifted to allow her to straddle him, “I thought you were Lord of Clegane Keep?”

“I’m not,” He leaned back his head resting on the edge of the wooden tub relishing the way she washed him. Sansa scrubbed the dirt from his broad hairy chest, arms and neck. “Technically, I’m a traitor to the crown. I’m bannerless now.”

“I’m a traitor now but I’m still a Stark.” She countered, washing his tight stomach.

“Your brother is King of the North.” He argued with her, “Your name has more weight on it than mine ever will. That’s why that scroll says what it says Little Bird.” mentioning the marriage contract. 

Sansa frowned but let the subject drop, if she made it to her brother they would likely try to make her align with some other large noble house despite her lost purity and likely despite her protests. Sansa found the soap he’d used in her hair and poured some into her hands intending on washing his hair as he’d done with her. As she reached up his hands closed around her forearms, his eyes boring into her, “Trust me Sandor,” She knew he was still overly worried about her reaction to his burn, he didn’t want her to see how bad it was. Slowly he loosened his grip and she rose up on her knees to wash his hair. Her deft fingers massaged the soap through his hair and on his scalp, she worked her way from the back of his head to the front where the worst of the burn was. 

Sandor wanted to relax under her fingertips, but no one had washed his hair in twenty-one years he’d purposely kept his hair in his face shielding her and everyone from it. She came to his temples and brushed his hair back, he waited for the repulsion on her face, some sort of indication that she realized she had made a mistake with him. She didn’t, instead she simply moved to the top of his scalp washing what little hair he had there. “Tip your head back.” She said softly, he did closing his eyes finally giving into the relaxed feeling and she rinsed his hair out. “It’s longer than I thought, darker too.” She said from somewhere above him. He gave a non-committal response as she worked out the tangle and knots, he rarely brushed his hair or washed it but now as he felt her soft breasts pressed against him he thought he might have to change that. 

She gently cleaned the soap from around his neck and found tiny scars at the base of his throat. She traced her finger above them, “What happened?”

“Embers.” he said not raising his head, she felt the vibrations of his voice through her fingertips. “Are you going to want to know about every fucking scar?”

“I want to know everything about you.” She said. She dipped her hand in the now luke warm water and traced the star shaped scar on his hip, “What about this one?” 

“Dagger in a bar fight.” he left that one vague on purpose not wanting to explain it was from a whore sucking his cock when she attacked him and definitely not wanting to tell her that the woman was dead. 

“This one?” She moved her wet fingers down his sternum. 

“An ax, when I was twelve.” 

“Twelve?” She sounded shocked.

“First man I ever killed little bird.”

“Why would a man attack a boy?” She asked, “That’s ...that's just wrong!” 

“It would have been if I hadn’t beaten him in the training yard earlier that day.” He smiled at the memory of beating an anointed knight the look of utter shock on his face when he’d broken his nose. “Bastard snuck into my room and tried to kill me while I slept.” 

“You fell asleep in your armor didn’t you?”  he waved his hand in confirmation to her suspicion. “I’m glad you did.” she stood up out of the cold water and pressed a kiss to him. She stepped out of the tub and found a drying sheet, toweling off she went to select a shift for the evening. 

“Don’t you dare.” Sandor said standing from the tub. Shift in hand she turned to him biting her lower lip at the sight of him naked and wet. “Edrick’s not here you’ll sleep naked.” 

“I’m bleeding Sandor.” She started to unfold the shift turning away from him as if the matter was settled. Suddenly she was being picked up and deposited on the bed. 

“I don’t fucking care.” He gripped her ankles and forced her thighs apart settling between them.

“The mess…” She protested. He pulled his drying sheet from his waist and shoved it under her hips. He licked two fingers before tracing them to her woman’s bud circling it the way he knew she liked.

“The messier the better,” He rasped down at her. 

****

Edrick wearily made his way up the stairs, he just wanted to tumble into bed and sleep for a week. Weeks of hard riding had that effect on a man and despite his best efforts he couldn’t seem to convince any of the women downstairs to follow him upstairs for the evening. As he climbed the last step he saw two girls giggling at a door. 

“Did you see how tall he was?” One said to the other, “Lucky girl.” As he approached he heard the muffled moans and grunts that could have been miscontrusted for a low conversation from the other side of the door, the creaking of the bed however was not so easy to dismiss. 

“Man that big I bet he breaks the bed.” The blonde said to the other.  

“Won’t that make father mad,” The first one giggled pressing her ear to the door. 

“You shouldn’t be listening to a man and his woman.” He said smiling. The girls squeaked in surprise and launched to their feet. 

“Sorry ser!” One said.

“We thought he was hurting her.”  Edrick raised his eyebrow, surely the two girls understood the sounds that were emanating from his ladies rooms. 

“Curios?” He asked them.

The blonde looked down at her fingers but the other dark haired beauty smiled, “Oh yes.”  He held up his key and smiled. 

*****

Sansa’s legs were still wrapped around him after he groaned his release, “Two fucking weeks is to long.” The smell of blood, sweat and sex filling the air was making him heady. “Would that I could fuck you all night.” 

She was still panting under him, “It doesn't bother you? My moon?” 

“Why would it?” he softened enough to ease from her channel, “I told you that you are mine.”

“The maesters say it’s poison.” She nibbled her lower lip, “That’s why women's bodies purge it.”

“Maesters don’t take wives little bird. Fucking is fucking when your bleeding or not, your nameday wasn’t just pent up frustration. I want to own your body fuck it when I please and I want you to want it. A little blood will never stand in my way of your sweet cunny.” He said to her bending his body so that he could kiss her. She smiled against his lips, wrapped her arms around his neck, “I have to get supplies.” he said between kissing her. 

“Now?” She whined. 

“Hmmm, It’s almost dark.” 

She finally broke the kiss, “Let me come with you then.” 

She cleaned herself and dressed quickly with her pulling on stockings and a light brown dress, he found the bag of money she’d not sewn into his cloak. She found her journal and made a strike in it on the table she had made in it while Sandor was distracted. Once outside Sansa slipped her arm in his as they walked down the darkening streets. No one seemed to recognize them or care if they did. 

Their shopping trip was easy, although he did have to drag her away from some kittens she didn’t ask for anything or even hint that she was disappointed by the hard supplies he was buying. Rations for them and for Stranger, a waterskin for her and a whetstone for his sword simple things she’d not been able to get before she ran with him. When she was distracted again by a kitten that had followed her the old woman he was buying from chuckled, “Your wife is a sweet woman.” She gathered all the things he requested before putting it all into a woven basket. He grunted his reply, “Let an old woman enjoy it boy, to soon Winter will be here and with any luck I’ll be gone before it.” She handed him the basket. _ His wife _ , his thoughts went back to the contract Varys had presented to her, he’d not yet pulled it from his cloak to scratch his name on it. Would Sansa even want to marry him? She claimed to love him but tying herself to him for a lifetime as different than three small words. He supposed for her they weren’t so small, to open herself to the opportunity of love she put herself at risk again like she had with Joffrey. 

He glanced back at Sansa who had found a stick and was happily sitting on the ground playing with the cat. “Do you have any thread?” 

“Just black m’lord.” 

“I’ll take that too.” the old woman placed three spools in the basket and named her price, after some haggling he paid what was owed then went to collect her. “You can’t have one.” He grumbled down at her.

“I don’t want one...they’re just so cute.” The three kittens tapped the stick she was using to play with them all of them losing their balance and falling over, she laughed at the sweet sight before scratching a gray one behind the ears. Their mother called them from a short distance away and they abandoned her with ease, she took his offered hand and stood up. “Are we all set for tomorrow?”

“Aye, come on woman. You wanted a bed tonight.” He helped her up and she dusted the dirt from her skirts he added, “The old woman had some thread...I uh… I got it for you.” How the hell was he supposed to bring up a marriage contract? He’d never been good with words. The more he thought about it the harder his heart pounded in his chest. The Little Bird was a princess and he was nothing, no one from a nothing house gifted by her families enemies. 

“Thank you!” Sansa said peaking into the basket and picking up the spool, “Strong cotton too. Maybe  _ now  _ I can fix that hole in your tunic that keeps reappearing.” She teased him. The last time she’d mended the tunic in question he’d caught her, she expected him to snap at her. Instead his eyes had softened and something akin to warmth had passed behind them. 

She slid her hand in his as they walked back to the inn, she wanted to bring up the scrolls to him. Wanted to know if he would marry her, he would have to take her name and wondered if that would bother him. She knew it would be the only way for him to stay with her, only she could guarantee he would be with her forever. “Sandor?” She stopped and turned to face him. Robb couldn’t send him away if they married.

Sandor looked down at her, her lips were still bruised from his kisses and her hair an unruly mess curling freely at her shoulders. She was staring up at him with wide eyes and he could see her pulse beating frantically at the base of her throat just above the yellow stone pendant. “Out with it woman.” He growled.

“Marryme.” She said so fast he didn’t quite hear it. 

He knitted his brows and asked, “What?”

Sansa closed her eyes and placed her hand on his forearm, glad for once it wasn’t covered in armor she took a steadying breath before starting again, “Marry me,” He stood still as stone as she held her breath again. “I saw a Godswood just outside of town.” After several long moments she spoke again, “My brother can’t send you away if we are married. Besides he cannot sell damaged goods to another lord. Especially if I get with child.”

He snatched her chin between his thumb and forefinger forcing her to look up at him, “ **Never,”** he snarled in her face, “call yourself damaged goods again little bird, bastard babe or not. That babe will be mine, all of your babes will be mine.” She held her breath as his gaze penetrated her, “You are to valuable a piece for him not to promise.”

“I can’t be promised to someone else if I am married to you.” She whispered.

“I fuckin’ hope so because they’ll have to kill me before I let anyone take you away from me.” He pulled her close to him and tilted her head back so he could kiss her. Her shoulders relaxed as the stress left her body and she circled her arms around his neck. “Was there any doubt that I would marry you little bird? Get that fucking contract.”

“You taking my name doesn’t bother you?” 

“Little Bird,” he pushed a stray red lock from her forehead, “I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you to marry me since your buggering nameday. I don’t give two fucks about a name, as long as you’re mine.  **Forever** .” 

____

Sansa retrieved the marriage contract and summed Edrick from his bed to bare witness to their union.  He smirked when he saw his name was already written on the contract in her elegant handwriting. The septon was a sweet older man called Maxis, the only man able to marry them in the small town, who was more than happy to marry them under their real names and to play the fool to not recognize them for a few extra coins. Even a few of the locals had gathered to watch the strange sight of a maiden and warrior running to the Godswood just as dark settled over them. “Fuck me I can’t believe you’re  **my** wife.” He kissed her hard in front of the few witnesses gathered in the small green area before he picked her up by throwing her over his shoulder. She squealed in laughter as he carried her back to the inn and back to their room.

-

He slammed the door shut fighting with the lock while he pushed her against the wall capturing her lips and tearing at her dress, “Off now.” She pulled at the laces and let it slip off her shoulders, “Leave your stockings on.” He pulled off his tunic and stepped out of his pants. Sansa let the dress pool to the floor, he stepped close to her sliding his hands down her to her hip and sliding off her small clothes, then taking her lips again he delved his fingers between her sex.

Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck and spread herself wider, moaning against his mouth, “I’ll fuck you like a proper lady one day wife but right now I need inside of you.” Heat flooded her body as he found her sensitive woman's bud and rubbed it back and forth sending tingling sensations to her core coiling into a tight hot ball. His words sent a thrill down her body as he slid a finger lower and barely penetrated her teasing a frustrated moan out of her.

She hooked her leg over his bare hip, closing her eyes at the sensation between her legs, “...Sandor.”  Needing his fingers to go deeper.

“Wrap your other leg around me.” He ordered her as he gripped the back of one thigh pulling it up. She obeyed crossing her ankles behind him, she felt his finger slip deeper inside of her bringing her wetness onto his fingers. “Fuck you’re soaked.”  His lips kissed the side of her mouth and trailed down to her neck, she was ready for him, he removed his hand from her and angled himself aligning with her entrance. Forcing himself to move slowly he savored the look of her face, she’d squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered as he stretched her tight sheath, still swollen and sore from earlier, tried to accommodate him. Her knees squeezed his sides as he pressed deeper grinding his hips against hers, he thrust up rolling his hips as he did, his lips found the hollow of her neck just above her necklace, he pressed a kiss to it. “Sing.” He growled one hand sliding her her ass squeezing it as he sank into her coaxing her pretty song from her lips.

Sansa gripped his shoulders her nails digging into his skin as he pounded into her, she mimicked his movements with her own hips. His twisted lips traced to her joint of her neck and shoulder, a flash of pain registered in her mind as he sank his teeth into that part of her body, a fractured sigh fell from her lips as she fisted one hand in his hair. His strokes pounding deep inside of her adding to her tightly coiled core bringing her closer to the precipice of ecstasy. His fingers dug into her soft skin, “Please ...please…” she begged him, the pressure on her neck increased as he hammered deeper into her.

Small tremors rippled up and down his cock as he slid in and out of her slick channel. He focused on her breathy moans escalating to squeaking pants and the smell of arousal and blood on her. He dug his fingers into her thigh lifting her higher, she released his shoulder and clung to him. He bit down hard on her shoulder, she shattered around his member screaming his name he growled as he thrust deep inside of her and erupted inside of her, letting her body milk his. Slowly he released her shoulder and kissed his bite marks there gradually becoming aware of her heaving chest and stroking fingers through his hair. He lifted his head from her neck and kissed her, “I could fuck you all night.”

She peppered kisses on his lips and cheeks, smiling she said “I promised to submit to you every night.”

***

Sansa sipped some willow bark tea that she had been able to get from a maid- early the next morning, while Sandor had abated most of the pain in her front her back still twinged remorselessly. Watching the sun rise listening to her husband snore behind her Sansa smiled, for the first time in a long time she was happy. Sandor was taking her home and now no one could take him away from her. He’d made good on his threat to love her all night only taking short breaks to nap or grab a tankard of ale. She was deliciously sore, last night in a rare moment of softness from him he’d told her that when ever he pictured his wife her face was the only one that came to mind. That he had fantasized about it more times than he could count. 

“Get back into bed wife.” She heard him rasp from behind her, turning she leaned against the window sill.

“If I get back into bed you’ll not let me up for another week.” He waved his hand trying to find the issue with that, “We are still being hunted my love.” Groaning he forced himself up letting the sheet fall to his lap, Sansa sucked in her breath at the body she knew so intimately now. Her eyes traveled up and down his torso not bothering to hide her interest. 

“Keep looking at me like that woman and see where you wind up.” He got out of bed and pulled on his pants taking away her fun. As he laced them he came over to her, “What are you drinking?”

“Willow bark tea,” She said softly not bothering to resist to urge to touch him, she would be warm this winter with him sleeping next to her. His muscles contracted under her fingertips and she toyed with the idea of tickling him just to hear his laughter.

“Still hurt then?” he took the cup from her nearly limp fingers. She nodded, “Why do you have Moon tea in our bags Little Bird? Toss the shit out I don’t want you drinking it.” She shook her head, “Give me one good reason before I toss it girl.”

“I’m not drinking it, Shea must have put it in with my things.” He frowned at the cup, “Do you want children? More than just an heir?” She asked.

“Aye.” He said to her in a moment of softness. “Always wanted as many as my wife could give me.” she smiled brightly at him.

“Really? Boys or girls?” 

“Every man wants sons little bird. Less to worry about.” He handed her back the tea.

“Then I suppose we better get on that husband.”  She smiled up at him. 

****

Ayra rolled her eyes for the millionth time as Gendry brought up yet again the three men she had Jaqen kill, “I’m just trying to understand!”

“Would you  **please** shut up about it?” She tried Sansa’s tact, she always used curtsy as her armor maybe it would work on the blacksmith.

“Jaqen offered you three kills…” No such luck.

“I’m not listening.”

“But just explain it to me, he offered to kill any three people you wanted. Dead. All you had to do was give him the names, anyone, you could have picked King Joffrey.”

“Shut up.”

“You could have picked Tywin Lannister.” Gendry continued.

“Jaqen got us out of Harrenhal so why are you complaining?”

“But you could have ended the war.” He snapped back.

Ayra sighed, “Where are we going?”

“North.” Gendry answered.

“If we were going North we should have come to the Red Fork River by now.”

“Maybe we already passed it?” Hot Pie offered.

“It’s a hundred feet wide, how could we have passed it?” She gave him a frustrated confused look. “If we hit the Red Fork we can follow it west to Riverrun, my mother grew up there. My grandfather's a lord he’ll protect us.” The men looked at her confused.

A baritone voice carried over the brush, all three of them rushed behind a ruined wall, “Could be a minstrel.” Hot Pie said.

“Shut up!” Arya hissed.

“Minstrels have gold sometimes.” Hot Pie continued, “We could jump him, tie him up and steal his gold and buy some food.”  Ayra recognized the Lannister song and mouthed to Gendry, “ _ Lannister _ .”

Gendry reached for her trying to pull her away from the hole in the wall, she jumped moments before an arrow flew threw the hole she was just peering out of.

“What’s lurking behind that wall? A lion? A wolf?” the baritone spoke.

“Just a dirty little cubba thing. Loose a few more shafts.” Another unknown spoke.

“Don’t!” Arya jumped from her hiding spot, they had only spotted her right? She was the only one peering through the hole. A balding red headed man came up and put his foot on a low part of the wall, another younger man stood behind him. The red headed bald man took out a wineskin and took a quick swig.

“Put the sword down girl.” he leaned forward on his knee.

Ayra leveled it at him from her lower vantage point, “You go on down the road just keep on singing so we know where you are. Leave us be and I won’t kill you.” The men laughed, she heard more than the two she saw at least four she thought.

“Generous, you’re a dangerous person. I like dangerous people.” the redhead said pointing at her. He gave a stage whisper, “Why are your friends so shy?”

“What friends?” She looked directly at the men in front of her, inwardly smiling at the small victory of not looking at Gendry and Hot Pie.

The other spoke, “The fat one to your left and the lad beside him.” Ayra flicked her gaze toward Gendry, who sighed and stepped forward grabbing Hot Pie dragging him to stand next to Arya. Gendry swung his sword reading himself to battle against the other men.

The redhead jumped down from his higher vantage point followed by the other forcing her trio to back up swords still pointed at them,  “Three young ones on the run, carrying castle forged swords, you escape from Harrenhal?”

“Who are you?” Ayra demanded.

“Thoros of Myr and the fellow here with the bow is Anguy.”

“No! Who do you fight for?” She demanded again.

“The brotherhood without banners.” Arya’s eyes widened and she stepped back as he stepped forward, “Now come along. I want to hear how two boys and a very dangerous girl escaped Harrenhal.”

“I’m not going with them!” Hot Pie said backing up further, “The Brotherhood? That’s who the mountain and them are looking for. They’ll bring us back and put rats in us!”

“You’ve nothing to fear from us son. The lords of Westeros want to burn the countryside we’re trying to save it. Now come on, we’ll talk some more over brown bread a stew.”  Arya's stomach rumbled, “Then you can go on your way.”

Hot Pie shook his head and backed up even further, Thoros turned to the archer who knocked an arrow, “Here’s the thing fat boy.” He pointed his bow in the air and loosed it, “When I’m done talking that arrows falling down on your fat head. So I advise you move, because I’m done talking.” Hot Pie jumped out of the way just as the arrow slammed into the ground where he was just standing. Thoros held out his hand showing them the way he wanted them to go. They went much to the amusement of the others.

****

After being sumarly beat by a drunkard Arya snatched her sword back from the ground sitting back down at the table, “You can finish your meals before you go. It may be awhile before you see another.” Thoros said.

“You’ll free us?” Arya was skeptical.

“I gave you my word.” Arya stood up immediately and dragged Hot Pie away from his food Gendry shoving more bread in his mouth before following suit. Thoros stood with them, “But before you go…” Arya’s shoulders slumped and she glared at him, “Allow me to raise a cup to your s…” Behind her a the archer came into the hall making a loud triumphant sound. Ayra turned to see what he was going on about. Everyone was cheering as behind him a huge man struggled against two capteres, Thoros swaggered up to the group pointing, “That is an uncommonly large person. How does one manage to subdue such an uncommonly large person?”

“One waits for him to pass out under a tree and ambushes him. Got another man and a woman outside too, still in the wagon.”

“Poor man you have my sympathies.” Thoros said pulling his hood off. Ayra sucked in a breath and turned from the large man, “Ahaa, not a man at all a  **Hound** !”  

“So good to see you again Clegane.”

The Hound squinted at the balding redhead, “Thoros? The fuck you doing here?”

“Drinking and talking to much the same as ever.” Ayra shoved Hot Pie forward, she needed to leave before The Hound saw her. Slowly she followed Gendry and Hot Pie trying into to gather any attention to herself. “A pretty prize lads!” The hound pulled against the two men successfully moving them several feet as she walked by.

“Girl!” He called. Arya’s shoulders tensed  **No** ! She turned to face Thoros and The Hound with an innocent expression, The hound turned to Thoros, “What in seven hells are you doing with a Stark Bitch?” They both turned to her simultaneously,  _ “Fuck me!” _ She thought.

****

Sandor pulled at his restraints, as the two men jostled him toward the cart. He needed to get out of the restraints get his woman and leave. “You think you’re good with that bow you little twat?” he snarled. How the fuck had that small of a man bested him..  _ Him!  _ He’d woken to Sansa’s muffled screams and before he knew it there was blackness again. He woke in a right rage killing a man for trying to hold him down and blocking his view of his wife, unfortunately that only seemed to make things more difficult for him. His head had been covered with a bag then and he’d been forced to walk next to his own horse, the only satisfaction he got from it was Stranger refusing to let anyone ride him and the scream of a man who Stranger bit. 

“Better than anyone you’ve ever met.” He was brought back to the present with the archers quib. 

“Coward's weapon, I like to fight up close. I like to see a mans face when I put steel in him.”

“Why? So you can kiss him?” the archer replied.

The small Stark girl was suddenly in front of him forcing him to take a step back and his captors to run into him, “You remember the last time you were here?” She was filthy and angry as she glared up at him for a moment he couldn't believe she and Sansa were related. Some part of him had always liked the small girl, her spunk and attitude reminded him of Eleanor. 

Sandor looked around feigning nonchalance, “Looks like every other shit inn on the road.” She was shoved out of the way as the archer came back up to him.

“Now apologies but your one ugly fucker and I’d rather not see you no more.” The hood was tossed over his head, he was guided back up into the cart hitting his head on the top of it. “Watch your head.” He faked concern.

“Fuck off arrow boy.” his legs brushed another's, relaxing now that he’d been put back with his woman he sat next to her and felt the cart pull off. Sandor positioned his body so Sansa could slide against him and not fall over.

“You know her?”

“Fuck off arrow boy.” He repeated not wanting to give away any critical information. If they found out who she was they would take her from him and he would be forced to kill all of them.

“Put up a good fight she did. Cut me across my face with her fucking nails.” Sandor barked out a laugh, the little bird was learning.

Edrick must have stirred, as the archer turned his attention to the other man, “Morning sunshine.”

“Fuck off.” Edrick snarled, “Get this fucking hood off of me.” Sandor now realized why he liked North men, they were just as mean as him. 

“Think not ser. You’ll be waiting with the others.” 

The trip was uncomfortable and long. When he was finally taken from the cart he heard Sansa finally stir, “Alright now out you go.” He was shoved out of the cart after Edrick who was spouting curses at them.

Sansa felt hands on her and she kicked out not managing to land anything successfully, “There now lass, I’m just going to help you out of the cart nothing else.” She stilled, “Had a rough time with men have ya?”

“Yes.” She answered honestly. She wasn’t sure she could get out of this alone, she needed Sandor, he would save her he always had.

“Can’t blame you with the Hound so close to you. Took you by force did he?”

“He didn’t and he would never.” Sansa snipped at the man. 

“I can’t remove your hood just yet, when we get done walking I’ll take it off.” The walk was steep but quick and she felt the cool air around her the further down they went. “No one here will hurt you, and we won’t let The Hound touch you.”

“How did you get him...The Hound?”

“Found the big oaf sleeping under a tree not to far from you along with his traveling companion. Easy enough to hit two sleeping men across the face.” How did this man sneak up on Sandor, he could hear a moths wings from two feet away.

“Where are we?” She thought she heard a familiar voice, it sounded like Arya. Her heart sped up, no, It couldn’t be her sister, the Gods wouldn’t bless her with her long lost little sister.

“Somewhere wolves nor lions come prowl.” She smelled the smoke of a fire and was stopped. She heard a baritone voice and thought to herself,  _ “Two wolves prowl here.”  _ Her hood was taken off as well as her loose bindings, she blinked always the bleariness and her eyes found Sandor who’s hood had just been ripped off too he was too close to the fire and stepped back. She took a step forward but his eyes landed on her and she saw his shoulders relax. He wasn’t hurt from what she could tell- just angry, Edrick was shoved next to her his hood ripped off but his bindings kept on. He looked around the room and paused on her for only moments and giving her a barely imperceptible nod.

Sandor eyed the disheveled dirty men around him before his eyes landed on Sansa. He thanked whatever god was listening that her headscarf had stayed on and no hint of her flaming red hair shown through it. He laughed at them, “You look like a bunch of swineherds.”

“Some of us were Swineherds, and tanners, and masons, that was before.”  the archer said.

Sandor put the full force of his glare on the archer, “You’re still swineherds,  _ and tanners, and masons.”  _ He added sarcastically. “You think carrying a crooked spear makes you a soldier?”

“No,” A new voice was added to the mix and Sandor turned to see who it belonged to, two men parted to reveal its owner “fighting in a war makes you a soldier.”

He heard Sansa’s sharp inhale but she stayed silent, surprised he addressed the man, “Beric Dondarrion?” He had an eye patch now and had the look of a grizzled old warrior, “You’ve seen better days.”

“And I wont see them again.”

He shook his head and looked around the room again, truly taking in the men before him, “Stark deserters, Baratheon deserters you lot aren’t fighting in a war you’re running from it!”

“Last I heard you were King Joffrey’s guard Dog but here you are a thousand miles from home. Which us is running?” Beric was taunting him, he knew it but he’d not had a good fight in weeks so he gave in.

“Untie these ropes and we’ll find out.” His voice was low and steady from the corner of his eye he saw Sansa smirk, “What are you doing? Leading a mob of peasants?”

“Ned Stark ordered me to execute your brother in King Robert’s name.”

“Ned Stark is dead,” she flinched and for a moment he thought about stopping, “King Robert is dead. My brother’s alive.” He spat on the ground, “You’re fighting for ghosts.”

“That’s what we are, Ghosts. Waiting for you in the dark, you can’t see us but we see you. No matter whose cloak you wear; Lannister, Stark, Baratheon. You prey on the weak and the Brotherhood without Banners will you down.”

“You found God, is that it?” Sandor sneered at Beric.

Instead of the normal shirking people do when he asked this question Beric answered enthusiastically, “Aye! I’ve been reborn in the light of the one true god. As have we all as would any man who’s seen the things we’ve seen.”

“If you mean to murder me then bloody well get on with it.” He grumbled. Sansa’s eyes widened, no, they couldn’t kill him! 

An older redheaded man spoke Sansa didn’t recognize him, “You’ll die soon enough Dog, but it won’t be murder only justice.”  Sansa grit her teeth it was murder and unable to hold her tongue anymore she lashed out.

“Killing him out right would be murder.” She called out to the man. Thoros raised his eyebrow and eyed her.

“What’s your name?” Her eyes flicked to Sandor, who was presently glaring at her.

“Does it matter?” she responded petulantly, this was a different world than she was used to, “You claim to be serving justice, but to whose God? Mine? Mine are the old gods and Ser Sandor has done nothing wrong. Nor has he done anything wrong in the new gods eyes. Let alone the law. So I ask you, whose authority do you have to judge a man you do not know.” 

“Pretty little thing aren’t you. Dangerous too from what I hear, just like the little one.” He pointed to the small girl a few feet from Sansa, she couldn’t see her as a tall broad shouldered boy stood between them. “Little lady let the men do the talking.”

“I’ve heard that more times than I can count Ser, you stand there trying to condemn a man for something you know nothing about! That’s not justice it’s stupidity.”

“Aye it’s justice!” the man who’s helped her called from beside her, “It’ll be the fate he deserves.” The man turned back to Sandor, “Lions you call yourselves? At the Mummer’s Ford girls of seven years were raped and babes still on the breast were cut in two while their mothers watched!” He snarled.

“I wasn’t at the Mummer’s Ford! Dump your dead children at some other door!” Sandor snarled.

“House Clegane was built upon dead children!” The redhead said. “I saw them lay Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne.”

“Do you take me for my brother?” She turned and looked around the room his eyes settling on her, “Is being born Clegane a crime?”

“Murder is a crime!” The archer said.

“I never touched the Targaryen babes! I never saw them, never smelled them, never held them bawling!” He roared, “You want to cut my throat! Get one with it!” His bellow echoed through the cave making Sansa’s knees go weak, the unknown boy steadied her. “But don’t call me murderer and pretend that  _ your  _ not. The girl is right, I've broken no laws.”

“You murdered Mycah!” The scratchy voice said again, Sansa looked passed the tall boy her heart stopped and she fell to her knees. Arya! It was Arya! “The butcher’s boy. My friend! He was twelve years old he was unarmed and you rode him down!” Sandor's eyes shifted from her to Arya, “You slung him over your horse like he was some deer.”

Silence reigned as Sandor stared down at the girl, remembering the boys face; “Aye, he was a bleeder.”  

Beric spoke, “You don’t deny killing this boy?”

“I was Joffrey’s sworn shield the boy attacked the prince.”

“That’s a lie! I hit Joffrey! Mycah just ran away.”

“And you let your sister's wolf pay for it,” Sandor snapped at her, “I should have killed you then! It’s not my place to question princes.”

“You stand accused of murder. But no one here knows the truth of the charge so it is not for us to judge you, only the Lord of light may do that now. I sentence you to trial by combat.”  Berrics baritone voice overrode any further argument. 

“So, who will it be?” Sandor turned in a semi circle addressing the warriors, “Should we find out if your fire god really loves you priest? Or you archer? What are you worth with a sword in your hands? Or is the little girl the bravest one here?”

“Aye she might be, but it’s me you’ll fight.” Dondarrion said, her heart seized in her throat as she watched the rope be cut from Sandor's chest and arms. To the side the redhead was praying to his god over Dondarrion and Sandor was swinging his sword.

He cut his eyes at her she shook her head, she didn’t want him to do this. He swung the sword in his hand getting used to the weight of it, it was plain and short, one he’d mastered at ten and five. She moved to go to her husband to comfort him when a hand stopped her. She heard the chanting around her and ignored it praying to the old gods for strength for hm. Fear wrote itself on his face and he stepped back, Sansa’s eyes locked with the flaming sword now in Dondarrions hands. Sandor took the shield and with one last look at her attacked Dondarrion on a feral scream.

Sandor cast Sansa from his mind and concentrated on the flaming sword. Beric parried him and shoved him off, sending him backward. Sandor blocked his opponents hellish sword and kicked his shield. He caught another blow and brought his sword down to some outcroppings of rock, with Dondarrions’ sword down Sandor swung out and missed Dondarrion's head by inches slamming into something behind him that crashed and fell apart. The other stood back up from his crouch and kicked him sending him over a small fire, he jumped out and away from it kicking small barrels as he went. The Hound snarled bringing his sword and shield down at the same time blocking Dondarrion’s sword with his shield and kicked him in the chest. He followed through with a driving thrust that Dondarrion spun out of the way of it.  The Hound stopped short trying not to hit the girls who were yanked back, the stop caused him to fall to his knees and turned just in time to block the flaming sword from coming down on him.

Dondarrion came in low as he stood and the Hound stood up parrying it. He kicked the other man and swung across his body knocking Beric off balance. He slashed again and again, breaking his opponents shield. Beric discarded it and returned the favor knocking the Hound on the ground and hammering away at his wooden shield catching it on fire. He didn’t hear the chants going up around him, only Sansa’s tear streaked face came to his mind, he’d seen it too many times to be the cause of it. Fighting Beric back he got his footing and tried to put out the flames by slamming it against anything near him, the flames didn’t extinguish roaring his fear and rage he tired to hack off the shield only to have to block Beric’s advance. The hound raised his sword and brought it down on Beric who fell to his knees but blocked, on his next swing he cleaved through the metal and the man.  He left the sword in his opponent falling to the ground to put out the flames.

Arya balled her fists as the Hound won against Dondarrion. No one noticed how Thoros fell upon Beric, she turned and snatched the first dagger she saw running over the rock blocking her way she ran to the Hound to kill him. The other girl ripped herself from the archer holding her and ran to him too, “Arya! Don’t!” Gendry ran after her snatching her around the middle and stopping her.

“NO!” She raged, “Let me go of me! Let go!” Gendry wrestled her to the ground as the young woman jumped over her and to the fallen Hound.

“Someone stop her!” The archer called.

“Looks like their god likes me more than your butcher's boy!” Sandor laughed.

“Burn in Hell!” She bellowed at him. The other girl knelt next the Hound and pulled off his wooden shield from his arm.

“He will.” Everyone stopped, Arya looked to Beric’s voice, he was kneeling his wound healing through the gap in his armor. “But not today.”

Sansa ripped her attention from the resurrection and pulled off Sandor's armor, his skin had started to blister and scar, he hissed at the cool air touching the burn, “Look at me Sandor, look at me.” He opened his eyes, “This will hurt a lot.” she warned him. She felt him snatch the back of her head and grip her head scarf pulling it down as he dealt with the pain.

“Don’t! Not here.” He stopped her, “They won’t let you go if they see.” worry living in her eyes for him. “Stop that now, I’ve lived through worse.” He whispered to her. 

Ayra watched in horror as the Hound grabbed the back of the girls head pressing it down, “He’s going to kill her! Someone stop him!” Red hair slipped from under the head scarf as the Hounds hands slipped from her head and down to her shoulder.

“Stand up little bird, don’t talk.” He whispered to her wincing in pain.

“Arya...”

‘I know. Stand up.” She did with him following suit. Sandor pushed her behind her. “I won your fucking trial. No I am taking what’s mine and leaving.”

“She isn’t yours.” Beric said, “We found her, we’ll randsome her.”

“And who are you going to ransom her too?” Sandor crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s a serving girl, no one.”

“She’s someone to you.” Thoros said. 

“Aye she’s mine.”

“Get another bedwarmer.” Thoros chuckled. 

“Sandor,” Before he could yell at her she continued, “The man you have just tried to execute for an ordered injustice is my husband.” Arya screamed her outrage at her.

“You married the Hound! He’s a killer!” 

“Every man is a killer Arya.” 

“How do you know my name!” She screamed, “How?”

“Your hair maybe short now Ayra but I know my dirty little sister anywhere.” Arya stopped struggling her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she stared at her. Sansa was walking a dangerous edge here, but from what she remembered of Berric he was an honorable man. 

“Two Northern princess.” Thoros smiled drinking from his wine skin. “What a good day for us. Twice the ransom.” He swerved his way up to Sandor, “I imagine he’ll pay us even more for you. Once he learns you defiled his sister.” he was close enough for Sansa to slap him. The sound cracked echoed in the cave. The men fell silent around them, Sandor put his arm in front of her and pushed her back behind him. 

“You little…” Thoros started.

“Don’t even think about it Priest. I’ll buy this sword so deep in your ass your god won’t be able to bring your drunk ass back.” He snarled. “Let us leave and you won't have any other issues with me.” 

“Sansa!” Arya raced around the priest and under Sandor’s arm pushing her away from Sandor. “How could you marry him! He the Lannister’s dog! He does whatever Joffrey tells him to do!” 

“Stop Arya! Stop.” She grabbed her sisters arms and shook her gently, “He’s not anyone man but his own now. You know as well as I that orders cannot be refused. Father refused an order to long and now he’s dead. Stop it.” She looked at her sisters big brown eyes seeing the pain in them, “I’m sorry Arya.” It was a harsh reality that Sansa had faced in the capitol being forced to write letters she didn’t want to write and forced to play a complacent fiance. 

“He still killed my friend.” 

“He saved me from Joffrey from a lifetime of rape and golden brats. He saved me from everything!” She said to her sister as much as every man in the room. “Take your judgement and thrust it upon the Lannisters. They started this war it will end with them.” 

“Do you love him?” Arya whispered to her.

“I wouldn't have married him if I didn’t.” 


	14. Last Loyal Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter update that could not be included in the previous chapter.

Edrick watched the interaction between the sisters, he remembered when little Arya would run under his feet while he was training with the other men earning her the nickname underfoot. These men would never let them go, not two Stark Princess worth their weight in gold his eyes traveled to the man who’d grabbed Arya. He looked familiar but couldn’t place him a memory nagging at the back of his head. Beric spoke before he could reach out to the young man, “You’re married to the Stark girl?”

 

“You deaf or dumb?” Sandor spat, “That’s what she said.” 

 

“We will deliver you all to your brother Ladies, I’ll even allow your husband to stay, but in chains.” 

 

“You will not chain me.” He spat.

 

Gendry spoke up since Arya had ripped herself from his arms, “He beat your gods test. Let him go.”  Everyone turned to him, “That was your deal, he beats your trial he goes free. Let him take his wife and go.” 

 

“That was before we knew who they were.” Thoros interjected. 

 

“Do you really think Robb Stark will let you live once he’s heard you kept his sisters from returning? If you don’t hold your word you’re just as bad as the Lannister's.” 

 

“We are returning them.” Thoros argued.

 

“You’re detaining them,  **and** you have deserters.” Gendry pointed out. 

 

“They stay!” Beric roared. And so they did. Arya fuming away from her and always with Gendry. Sansa settled next to Sandor, they hadn’t tied him up trusting in the sheer number of men in the cave to deter him from running away with their prisoners. Edrick they seemed to trust more and let him walk about freely with them. 

 

“You need to rest.” Sansa said taking Sandor’s hand in hers.

 

“I need to kill that fucker.” he glared at Beric, Sansa felt her lips tug upward, “Find out what makes him so special.”

 

“You should kill the priest, he’s the reason he’s back.” Sandor snorted then stiffened as two men came toward them. 

 

“Beric says to give you both these things.” they proffered meat and some bread. Sansa stood and took the meal from them. 

 

“Thank you.” She murmured to them recognizing the Northern armor. 

 

“Princess?” She snapped her head up at the man addressing her, “When you see your brother, tell him…”

 

Sansa’s patience deserted her, these two men deserted her brother and now they addressed her? “Tell him what? Why you deserted him? Why you think the brotherhood without banners is more important than supporting your  **king** ?” The men found their boots very interesting. “Nothing to say? What are your names?”

 

“George.” said the younger, “Bryce.” the older answered.

“I hope you both find the courage you so clearly lacked in my brothers army.” She turned away from them and knelt down next to her husband giving him the meal. 

 

“You need to eat wife.” 

 

“I don’t have an appetite.” she said nibbling at the bread at his glare she smirked back at him, “Sometimes my moon affects my hunger, you know that.” 

 

“Eat all the bread at least.” 

 

Arya leaned against the rock her arms crossed under her small chest, “What does she see in him?” she seethed through a mouthful of stale bread and rabbit. “He’s old, mean and ugly.” 

 

“Maybe she really does like him m’lady.”

 

“Shut up! You don’t know Sansa like I do. Her head is full of nothing but stupid tales and knights and gallantry.” She ripped another piece of rabbit from the spit it had been roasted over, “No I bet he forced her and now she has to convince him she loves him.” Gendry snorted next to her, “What? It’s not like the Hound was exactly hiding his want for her at least not while I was there in King’s Landing.” 

 

“Look at them Arya.” He interrupted her seething, her sister was giggling at something The Hound had said to her, the sweet sound of female laughter ringing through the cave. Then her sister leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips in front of everyone. Twisted mouth be damned Arya made a disgusted noise, “Seven hells Arya. If you really want to know how she feels watch when Thoros goes over there. Just watch.” After The Hound had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion Thoros did make his way over to them a box of healing potions, pastes and salves in his hands. Arya scooted a little closer to hear the conversation between the priest and her sister. 

 

“Got something to say princess?”

 

“To many things but for now I’ll settle for this: the paste won’t work, it’ll peel the skin and stick to the linen.” she said to him.

 

“And how would you know that?” 

 

“Do you have any dandelion salve?” She asked ignoring the priests question entirely. The man searched through his box and pulled out a large jar. Sansa took it from him without asking then the long line of linen. 

 

“You had better let me do that Princess.” 

 

“If he sees you close to this injury he’ll kill you.” 

 

“And not you?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I’m not the one who caught him on fire, and I’m his wife. Give me some of your rum.” he handed it over, Sansa poured some over her hands and handed it back.

 

“Waste of perfectly good rum!” Thoros complained. 

 

“If you want to help me then hold him down.” Complaining, he went to the Hounds other side and pressed down on his shoulder, quickly Sansa spread the salve from her hands to his arm infusing it with her will to heal him. He woke on a roar, Sansa flinched but held still. Thoros wasn't so lucky. Sandor's hand came up and instantly closed around the priests neck. “Sandor,” Sansa said turning his head toward her, “Let him go. I’m putting some salve on you that’s it. Please love.” Sandor shoved the priest away from him. 

 

“Fuck me Little Bird.” He rasped letting his head drop against the stonewall of the cave, “I could have killed you.”

 

“Why do you think Thoros was there.” She smiled making Sandor bark out a harsh laugh. Arya watched as her sister wrapped his arm in the linen gingerly.

 

“She loves him.” Gendry said from her side. 

 

“Doesn’t change nothing.” Gendry shook his head smiling at the lithe girl, for the past three mornings the girl had snuggled up to him in her sleep. He knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose, but he couldn’t help but like the feel of her full bottom against him. 

 

The men were settling down for the night with only a few left staying away to stand watch. He glanced over at Arya’s sister and her husband. The redhead had curled up into the hounds lap her head under the man's chin. One of the man's huge hands rested across her thigh and the other cradled her back as she slept against him. Shrugging off his own want he found his bed roll, Arya finding hers next to him minutes later. “You’re still going to kill him aren't you?”

 

“Yes.” She answered before yawning and rolling to her side.

 

****

Hours later he woke, it was still dark outside and the cave was filled with snores. The fires barely giving him enough light to look around him, Arya was pushed up against him again, using his arm as a pillow and her blanket twisted around her legs. Carefully he disengaged from Arya and stood up, turning he saw the Lady Sansa and her husband in the same position as when they fell asleep. Stretching he made his way to the only other man awake in the cave. He plopped down next to him. “Why do you look familiar?”

 

“Because I was Lord Stark’s man when he asked you about your mother,” Gendry furrowed his brow, that long ago? He pulled the memory from before the Night’s Watch caravan, before Harrenhal, “You ever figure out why the Hands kept asking you about her?”

 

“No.” He admitted.

 

“You’re Robert Baratheon's bastard.” Edrick poked the fire with the stick his was holding, swirling the debris in the embers. “Lord Stark said your the spitting image of Robert when he was a teenager.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Lord Stark isn’t...wasn't a liar. And he’d have no reason to lie about that boy.”

 

“I’m as lowborn as lowborn gets.”

 

“Why do you think the royals were so interested in you? ” He tossed the stick into the fire, “Your other brothers and sisters were killed just before you left.” Gendry was silent for a long moment, picking his teeth with his thumbnail. “Why do you think I was there talking to your master?”

 

“You had me sent away?” Gendry asked incredulously 

 

“Lord Stark’s orders.” 

 

“Do the Starks know?” 

 

“No, only Lord Stark did.” He stared into the fire wanting it to give him some answers. “The guards are dead.” Edrick said suddenly, “You can have my horse, just get the ladies back to their brother.” 

 

“What?!” 

 

“Keep your bloody voice down.” Edrick twisted his neck and Gendry heard a few bones popping. “They were going to kill the Hound. Slit his throat just before dawn.”

 

“Who?” 

 

“Stark deserters there.” He pointed to a dark corner of the cave. “Convinced themselves that he raped their lady.” He spit on the ground, “They deserted she isn’t their lady any more.”

 

“Why protect the Hound? He’s a bloody monster!”

 

“To who? You? Me? His wife? He’s got a right to protect what’s his and a monster he might be but he’s a Stark now. Watched the wedding myself, signed the damn contact as a witness. He took her name so she could preserve the North should the worst happen.” Gendery stared at him in disbelief, “Come on lad. I’ll wake the monster, you wake Arya. Be quick and quiet about it.” 

 

Slowly Edrick stood up and made his way over to Lady Sansa, instantly the Hound was awake spinning his wife out of harm's way and reaching for a dagger that wasn’t there. Gendry heard the low rumbling of conversation between the men before going to wake Arya. 

 

“Arya.” He shook her gently, “Wake up.” She rolled over and stared up at him with her great big brown eyes. 

 

“Gendry?” 

 

“We got to go.” She pushed herself up on her elbows bringing her close to him. 

 

“Where?” he could feel her breath on him. 

 

“To your brothers.” He whispered back, “I’ll explain later.” Her eyes trailed down to his lips and he had the sudden urge to kiss her. 

 

“Hurry up.” Edrick was suddenly behind him. He stood extend him his hand down to her as she took it he pulled her behind him and out of the cave. Surprisingly they met with no resistance as they ascended the steep slope. 

 

“Don’t look.” He heard the Hound rasp to his wife, “Keep your eyes on Stranger.” He said as he boosted her up on to the black stallion. “Keep your eyes closed wife.”

 

“I stole what little food I could.” Edrick said. “Get the girls to safety.”

 

“They’ll kill you for this.” Sandor said gruffly, “Don’t be stupid, come with us.” 

 

Edrick shrugged, “I should have died a long time ago with my Lord. Only dumb luck that kept me alive. I won’t let them kill another Stark if I can help it.” an odd silence descended between the two men, “Our lady saved me, when her father refused it. I… I shouldn’t be alive Her father should be.” Sandor grunted at the confession. 

 

Gendry boosted Arya up on the brown mare following up behind her. “Ride North.” Came the soft advice from Edrick. Gendry listened to Lady Sansa’s soft cries at her last loyal man’s sacrifice. The Hound gripped the mans forearm squeezed it then swung up behind his wife. As they rode he heard shouting and the clash of metal ringing against each other. They knew the exact moment when the battle ended, Sandor squeezed Strangers sides and the war horse galloped through the forest with ease. They didn’t stop until the next evening when both horses were slick with sweat and the women were nearly falling from their spots with exhaustion. 

 


	15. The Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see a new side of Sansa, Arya experiments.

Arya woke the next morning to her sisters soft breathing and the Hounds snoring. How Sansa managed to sleep through  _ that  _ amazed her. And Gendry, his arm was wrapped around her middle, his head pressed to her back, still sound asleep. She tried to sit up shifting Gendry’s arm it only served to make him bring her closer. “Stop moving Arya.” he murmured. 

 

“I want to get up.” She complained and wiggled he made a pained sound then she felt it. The stiffness between them. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt it but it was the first time he’d been awake for it. “Oh…”

 

“So stop moving.” he gritted out. 

 

“Does it hurt?” She asked curiously. 

 

“Today? Yes.” Arya turned so she faced him, she’d seen plenty men take themselves in hand, more pin maids up against walls in Harrenhal though it never seemed all to nice for those women. She wondered what he would do if she pleased him with her hand. “Stop looking at me like that.” He snapped his near black eyes narrowing on her.

 

“Like what?” She said reaching down between them and unlacing his pants. 

 

“Like your sister looks at her man. Besides she’s too close.” he weakly protested.

 

“She’s asleep.” Her hand wrapped around him, he felt soft and hard at the same time. She moved her hand in the way she had seen men do. Gendry closed his eyes and his hand closed over hers slowing her down. His breathing hitched when she rubbed her thumb over the head of his manhood. “Good?” 

 

“Ye..yes.” He ground out, she continued to stroke him gently tugging his foreskin forward every time it didn’t take long for him to grip her hand again and make her go faster and faster until he groaned his hips jerking back and forth as white fluid spread all over Arya’s hand. She’d always left before this part, before a man finished. Gendry looked like he was in pain, his eyebrows knitted together, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw straining with the stifled sounds coming from him. 

 

“Better?” 

 

“Fuck me.” he groaned as female giggling sounded from behind them, “I told you they would wake up.” He hissed at her. 

 

“Could you have been any louder?” A male voice rumbled through laughter. Gendry hurriedly stuffed himself back in his pants. He quickly stood up and made his way to the tree line cheeks flaming, Arya wiped her hand on the grass beside her. She’d rather enjoyed him in that state, the sounds he made the faces too, even the spurting wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. Sitting up she watched as Sandor made his way to the tree line too, Sansa digging through her saddle bags. Curious she watched her sister pull out a jar of herbs and look at her sister. “When was your last moon Arya?” 

 

“What! Why does that matter?”

 

“I have moon tea… you may want to drink some before your next moon if you’re laying with…” Arya interrupted her. 

 

I’m still a maid!” Arya crossed her arms under her chest. “Oh… gross Sansa! How long have you been  _ with  _ him?” 

 

“He’s my husband Arya.” She said.

 

“I was less than twenty feet from you!” 

 

“That didn’t seem to stop you, besides nothing happened last night!” She hissed at her sister. “With the noises Gendry was making I thought…”

 

“He said it hurt.” Arya picked up a blade of grass and split it with her fingernails, a blush tingling her cheeks, “I didn’t think it would be so...messy.” 

 

“Sandor’s never finished in my hands. To impatient I guess.” Sansa put the tea up, “Look when it happens - tell me. I’ll give it to you- it’s preventative, you don't want to be running around heavy with child.” 

 

“But I’m not going to do  _ that _ .”  Sansa smirked her own cheeks heating at the memory of her first time. So far from what she thought her first time would be like, “Spill it!” Her sister demanded. “I want to know the details. How and why the Hound. He’s not your type and he is a mean bastard! And ugly!” 

 

She glanced over at her dirty sister, she supposed she looked no better in this regard, “What specifically do you want to know?” 

 

“EVERYTHING! Sansa, spill it! I mean he’s even old.”  

 

“He’s not even thirty!” Arya rolled her eyes, Sansa tapped the saddlebag cover with her nail as she thought how to phrase this. What to tell her sister, “Not long after you disappeared Joffrey became king and everything changed. I was beaten every time Robb won a battle, threatened with rape and torture every day. I only managed to stave Joffrey off my learning some  _ things  _ from my maid. I used them on Joffrey but he …” she shuddered trying to not think about that night they ran, the night he almost got between her legs, her bravery or stupidity from that night was gone, “There was a riot in the city the day Princess Myrcella left for Dorne, they called it the bread riots because there is no food in the city, even Joffrey had started to feel the pinch of it. I got lost in the fray, I was chased pinned down and beaten by three men. They ripped and pulled my skirts. If Sandor hadn't saved me I wouldn’t be alive Arya.” She swiped an errant angry tear from her cheek the emotions always conjured, “After that Joffrey made him my Sworn shield.” 

 

“From sworn shield to husband?” 

 

“You know father would only let him escort me about the keep.” She said as the men came back from the trees, “I learned so much about him.” 

 

“Does he know  _ everything  _ about you?” from her tone is obvious to Sansa she meant her magic. 

 

“Everything.” She rolled up their bedrolls as the men came up to the fire. 

 

“Not to interrupt the oh so sweet moment here but maybe we should move on, further away from the bandits?” Gendry said from beside his horse.

 

Sandor sighed and stepped back from her “Change of plans Little Bird, we’re not going to Riverrun.”

 

“What? WHY?”

 

“Your uncle is marrying a Frey girl, your brother will be at the Twins Gendry confirmed it with the bandits. We’ll go there. With any luck, he'll be drunk enough to accept this,” he gestured between the two of them, “And I won't have to fight him.” 

 

Sansa made her way over to her overly large husband, “I told you he won't come between us. He can’t annul our marriage.” 

 

“Are ya…?” His eyes flicked down to her flat tummy.

 

“No, remember we have to get to my brother first. Somewhere stable remember?” Sandor grumbled. 

 

“How soon is it to the Twins?” Arya asked interrupting Sansa’s amused smirk. She walked toward their bags finishing packing them. 

 

“A day, maybe two.” Sandor said kicking dirt over the fire and pointedly glaring at his wife who was calmly organizing their bags, specifically the bag with the moon tea. “With any luck they’ll let us sit at the damn tables inside.” They packed their meager camp and set off within the hour. They traveled mostly in silence until they came upon a rutted cart filled with what looked like pig parts. Coming to a stop he swung off his horse pulling Sansa down next. 

 

“Are you going to help him?” 

 

“Aye and we need a way into the camp. I just can’t show up.” 

 

“But…” He narrowed his eyes down at her daring her to argue. When she didn’t he went over to the hog farmer he handed her the reigns and walked over to the man fixing the wheel for his wagon. Arya came up next to her as Gendry half jogged to Sandor. They spoke briefly and Sandor lifted the cart, Arya heard Sansa give a small sigh. She was ogling the Hound, Arya elbowed her sister.

 

“Seven hells your smitten!” She teased her sister. 

 

“You should see him with his shirt off.” Sansa smiled.

 

“Don’t be gross.” Arya jumped when Sandor punched the man. Both girls ran to him as he pulled his dagger from his belt.

 

Sansa put her hands on his chest, “Don’t! Don’t kill him.”

 

“Dead rats don’t squeak little bird.”

 

“He’s right.” Gendry said from his spot by the wheel.

 

“You’re  _ so  _ dangerous, aren't you?” Arya said from her sisters side, “Saying scary things to little girls, killing little boys and old people. A real hard man you are.”

 

“More than anyone you know.” He snapped at her.

 

“You’re wrong, I know a killer a real killer.”

 

“That so?”

 

“You’d be like a kitten to him.”

 

“Arya.. please.” Gendry said, “Don’t piss the giant angry man off.” 

 

“He’d kill you with his little finger.” She ignored her friend.

 

“That him?” Sandor Growled.

 

“No…”

 

“Good.” Sandor started to walk again and Sansa pushed against his chest.

 

“Don’t kill him, please don’t kill him!” Sandor cut her a look he was upset with her again, “Please Sandor.” His eyes softened for her, she reached up and put her hand to his face, “Please?”

 

He looked from one sister to the other, “You’re very kind. One day I’ll get you killed Wolf Girl.” The man started to stir behind them and Arya reached for the hard wood the man was using to prop up his cart and cracked him across the head knocking him out again. Everyone stared at her as she gathered the horses to be hitched to the cart.

 

_______

When they reached the Twins it was dark and despite Sandor and Arya’s bickering she was excited to see her family again though a bit anxious to see what her brother would say about her choice in husband. “Hoods up.”

 

Maneuvering through the men was harder than it should have been. Most of the men were drunk and Stranger was stamping his foot more often than not a clear sign of his agitation. Thankfully it was clear which side was Frey and which was Stark , the cart stayed decidedly on the Stark end of things, “Keep your hoods up.” Gendry said pointing toward the guards. Sounds of men shouting obscenities and demands for more and or women could be heard clear across the camping grounds. Sansa gripped her husbands arm with both hands unwilling to be ripped away from him. The energy was the same and different as the bread riots, men losing control thinking war was over and it was time to relax. She grit her teeth and forced her racing heart to slow down, “This is not King’s Landing little bird.” Her husband rasped at her, “no one will touch you here.” 

 

Arya gripped the edge of the cart between barrels of salted pork and pickled vegetables completely unaware of her sisters plight. She spotted the Stark Banner easily and felt a wave of comfort and homesickness at the same time. Gritting her teeth she decided in an instant to vault over the edge and go see her fathers men barely hearing Gendry’s call. “ARYA!” 

 

“The fuck is your sister doing?”

 

“She saw bannermen.” Sansa said and moved to follow but Sandor grabbed her arm. 

 

“Stay with me Little Bird. Your sister looks like a boy you do not.” Understanding him she resettled herself as they drew up to the bridge. Where two guards were standing, she caste her head down not liking the way they looked at her form even under the cloak. 

 

Before Sandor could announce why they were there chaos erupted in front of them and behind the guard. Guards stood at the massive double doors and Sandor heard the screaming. Sansa sat still as stone listening to the sounds of pain and shock emanating from the castle and not seeing the hundreds of Fray's and guards pouring into the courtyard and slaughtering the Stark men. She felt as if her arrival had been some sort of signal, her heart pounded in her throat as she cast her gaze around she saw hundreds of her clansmen being struck down. Blood become rain and rain became blood, the sounds so much like King's Landing left her shaking. She tightened her grip on her husbands arm as he argued with Gendry, whom undenounced to her had slain the guard. They would grab her any moment, they knew who she was! They...

 

“Little Bird!” Sandor roared in front of her, “Release the reins.”  She wasn't holding Sandor at all but leather reins. Her sister, where was Arya! She wouldn't leave to this mess and lose her again.

 

Sansa snapped to attention and released the horses leads before sliding from the cart, out maneuvering Sandor’s grasping hands “I have to get my sister! I won't leave her behind in this.”

 

“Damn it girl! Get back here!” By the time he’d leapt down from the cart his wife was gone. “Sansa!” He roared but no pale face turned to look back at him. 

 

Sansa ran through the chaos mean filing in and out of her vision, the ground at times seemingly trying to come up and meet her she always shoved it away and continued to follow the sound of a howling wolf, Arya would be there, she  **had** to be. She crouched low finding her sister behind some barrels peaking over the barrels she saw what captured her attention Stark men were being butchered, the sounds of men cleaving into each other drowned out by their screams of agony, she clapped her hands over her sister’s eyes, “Don’t look!” she turned her toward her chest, “Don’t look, please don’t look.”

 

“We have to help them!” Arya cried against her.

 

“If we help them we die with them. I’m going to get Graywind, I need you to be a look out for me. Do you think you can do that?” When Arya nodded Sansa peered over the barrels again and saw more men lined up on the crate that held the wolf. The twang of arrows could be heard clearly through the screaming and Sansa buried her head down low. 

 

“He’ll die Sansa, you have to help him.”

 

“Come on!” She pulled her sister from behind the barrels and raced over the large crate, she shoved the wooden bar out of the way and swung the gate open. Grey Wind's yellow eyes stared back up at her in empty voids. “No no no no no no no!” She fell to her knees and ripped the bolts out of the wolves body.  She spread her fingers through the fur tried to find any point of life to heal his broken body. 

 

“Save him Sansa! Come on use your gift!” Arya shook her shoulders.

 

“‘Ello.” Arya snapped her head up to see a man in old leather and blackened teeth showing through a smile. “What are two pretty girls going here?” Arya didn’t have a weapon and her sister was totally unaware of the danger in front of her. The man advanced three steps before the point of a sword pushed through his chest. Blood forced its way out of the man's mouth, he was shoved off the metal and The Hound stood there. 

 

“Get to your man She wolf.” At his growl Arya didn’t dare disobey. Sandor sheathed his sword and went to pick up his wife. She abruptly ripped her hands from the wolf bursting into tears, he picked her up by her middle immediately she started fighting landing a good blow on his shoulder. He made a note in the back of his mind to congratulate himself on his training of her.  “It’s me! Sansa it’s me!” 

 

Her eyes focused on his, “I couldn’t save him!” He wanted to hold her and let her cry let her sort out her emotions but there were more pressing issues. 

 

“I know, we have to go or we will join him.” He pushed her over his shoulder and ran out into the fray finding Gendry with the horses after several minutes of searching, the boy had been smart enough to lead the horses to al alcove and stay away from Strangers kicking legs. after dodge flames and small broken bits of skirmishes; Arya was already atop the brown mare with Gendry. He tossed his wife up on Stranger. 

 

“ _ Here comes the King of the North _ !” Chants came from behind them, “ _ Here comes the King of the North! _ ” Sansa turned to look, maybe Robb had survived. But the horror that met her eyes seared deeply inside her mind and would remain here until the day she died. She cried out when she saw what they had done to her brother and his wolf. Her brother was strapped to a horse and tied to a pole to make him sit up right. His head had been cut off in its place his direwolves head sewn onto it. She didn’t feel Sandor falling into place behind her and gripping the reins. She tore her eyes away from the gruesome sight her eyes landed on Lord Bolton, a man supposedly trusted by the North. Cold goosebumps raced over her skin and on her scalp. Bolton, his face had appeared many times before her  and many more before her father. The hair rose one the back of her neck, this was the reason her brother was dead, this man. 

 

“Sansa!” She turned to see Arya screaming for her, not paying attention to the danger in front of her she didn’t see the bolt until it sank into her shoulder. She screamed as the wind was knocked out of her. She whipped her head back to see a Frey man reloading; beyond angry Sansa ripped the reigns from her husband and squeezed Strangers side. The war horse responded eagerly charging into the group of men, her sole aim was to kill Lord Bolton. Stronger hands wrapped around hers taking control of the horse again, Stranger stopped knocking over and began stomping on the single Fray man. Heaving with anger Sansa reached up to her shoulder and broke the bolt in her shoulder in half, throwing it Lord Bolton delivering it with a sneer.

 

“Traitor.” She snarled at him, “The North will never forget.” Sandor steered Stranger around and kicked the horse into a charging gallop, Arya and Gendry falling in place behind them.

_____

 

“Who was that?” Black Walder asked Lord Bolton, looking down at one of his various brothers. He didn’t know this one’s name.

 

“Another problem,” Lord Bolton knelt picking up the broken bolt. “Who shot this?” 

 

“I did.” A Fray said in the back smiling like a fool, Roose drew his sword and stepped to the man in one swing he relieved the Fray of his head. The other’s backed away shouting at him.

 

“That was Sansa Stark, Robbs bloody heir apparent. This was supposed to end this bloody war. Now you just fucking brought more war between us. The North will rally around her now.”

 

“She’s a woman,” Black Walder said picking up the half bolt, “She’ll never go into war.”

 

“She’s a fucking Stark. And did you not see who sat behind her?” 

 

Black Walder looked around at his remaining brothers, “Aye...that is a problem with the Hound guiding her.” 

 


	16. Queen of Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the Red Wedding

Only once they could no longer smell or see the fire from the twins did Sandor stop them. He needed to see to his wife's wound and figure out their next move instead of just running blindly through the Riverlands. He slipped down Stranger and pulled her with him. She was no longer vibrating with rage, she had that damn dazed look in her eyes, the one he hated seeing. “Little Bird.” He rasped at her. She looked up at him, but the cold blank stare remained. “Sansa, come on now Little Bird.”

“They killed him.” She said so softly he barely heard it, “They killed my brother. He’s dead...He's gone, my big brother is gone.”

He pulled her to him, “You need to focus now. Your sister needs you, she hasn’t spoken since we left and you still have a bolt in you.”  She looked down at her shoulder the pain from it suddenly coming to her as she saw the blood leaking out of her, she stumbled in his arms. Sandor had seen that happen to men who were not expecting the pain of a battle wound but never would he have expected his little bird to stomp a man to death with his horse. Stranger never obeyed anyone's orders excepts his, and now apparently his wife's. 

Arya watched the two from her position on the mare,  Gendy slid from his horse pulling her with him. “I won’t ask you a stupid question Arya.” He pulled her into a deep hug, but her eyes still found her sister. The Hound was comforting her sister gently which surprised her given his reputation. Her large brown eyes traveled down Sansa’s form, blood had matted her dress from her shoulder wound. Instead of crumbling into a faint like she had done at their father's death she was oddly silent. Then there was Sansa’s direct attack to think about. Her sister never entered serious conflict, but Sansa had forced the horse to trample over an enemy. Arya felt the stir of respect for her older sister, even if Sansa never killed another person again, she didn’t wait for someone to save her this time. Maybe her sister was more warrior than she thought. 

“She’s right everything is gone.” Arya said numbly to Gendry. 

“You’re a Stark of Winterfell and so is she, not everything is gone.” Gendry spat back, “You two are still the wolves of the North that people shrink from.” 

“But I killed Sansa’s wolf.” She said softly. 

_____

“Sit down there.” Sandor said pointing to a log, Sansa sat down putting her head in her hands wincing as she moved her shoulder. He dug through his saddle bags looking for clean cloth herbs to help her wound. Arya didn’t miss the worry in his eyes, why would he actually care for her sister? “It’s going to be okay Sansa.” He said to her when he kneeled down in front of her again.

“How?” She asked coldly, “Robb is dead, Bran and Rickon are dead, Mother is dead, Father is dead…” she paused drawing a gasping breath, “Lady is gone, Nymeria is gone. Summer and Shaggydog are gone. Ghost is with Jon...Everything is gone. Everything except you.” She said to him. She grabbed his face with her bloody hands, “Promise me you’ll never leave me. Promise it Sandor.” 

“I promise it Little Bird. I will never leave you willingly.” He took her hands in his, “I need to get the bolt out of your shoulder. It’ll hurt.” Sansa nodded her understanding. While Sandor ran the wine down her shoulder Arya turned and looked up at Gendry wanting the same promise but didn’t know how to get it from him. 

“Gendry.” She whispered before she could get the rest out he was holding her face between his hands he kissed her. He tasted like fire and ash, the gentleness of it after seeing such cruelty broke her. Her nose tingled as she felt the tears fall from the corners of her eyes carving rivers of pale skin under the dirty soot.

“Same Arya. You’re not allowed to leave me. You’re all I got in the world.” She sniffed and nodded. 

“Took you long enough, you stupid bull.” She whispered. 

_

Sansa watched her sister and Gendry exchange a few soft words and despite the circumstances she felt hope. If she and her sister had found love then all wasn’t lost, she flinched as Sandor pulled through the silk thread over her wound. 

“Don’t go askin’ me for soft declarations. You know what you got when you married me.” He muttered tying the knot in the thread. “The damn softest thing you’ll get from me is a promise to kill the fucker that did this to you.” He wanted her to cry wanted her to scream and rail but she simply sat there numbly barely flinching as he took care of her wound. 

“Good.” She said looking over at him, silver eyes clashed with blue. Her tone was one he had not ever heard from her. It was angry. Something in his little bird had broken, any innocents she had in her was gone now. Before Sansa could blink he’d pulled her into his lap, one hand holding her face as he kissed her. 

“Next time I tell you to stay somewhere stay there wife.” he half growled half begged her.

“Graywind…” She tried to defend.

“I don’t care!” He snapped at her. “You will listen to me about this shit. I’m no good a politics but this fucking game but war, I know war. Know it like I know my own fucking name you’ll defer to me in that do you understand?” 

“Yes.” She whispered, suddenly his little bird again. 

“Good girl.” He said pulling her close to him. If that bolt had been two inches over it would have hit her lungs, he didn’t know if he could have fixed that. He held her in place for long moments not liking how close he’d come to losing the only thing that mattered to him. 

*****

They rode through the night, no longer at a gallop but not stopping all the same. Arya remained quiet throughout the rest of the night, wishing she could just sleep and wake up from this nightmare, Gendry held her best as he could a top a horse but he was no Hound. As dawn broke, she heard voices ahead making Stranger stop. “They’ll recognize us.” she heard Sansa’s sleepy voice.

“Keep your head down, don’t look at them. If they call us ignore them.” He told them before kicking his horse back into motion.

Arya gripped the mares mane as they passed the group of dirty men. One man was mock screaming holding his neck and dancing around like he was in pain, she simply watched the men as they laughed at his impression of whatever he was making fun of. “I’m tellin’ ya! That's what she did. OOOOHHOHOHOHHHHH. Sounded like a cow in heat.” Sandor didn’t stop his horse wanting to get passed them without incident. She recognized the Frey men anger broke through the numbness, she bit her tongue and forced herself to look away, she couldn’t fight four men. Arya spied the dagger in Gendry’s belt, he must have stolen it at the battle “Black Walder shut her up right quick.” the Frey could only be talking about one person, Arrya pulled the dagger from his belt silently, “None of the Starks had much to say by the end of that meal.” She gripped the saddle listening to the Frey man boast. Arya hid the dagger behind her slipping it into her belt. “I’ll tell you what though,” the Frey continued, “The hardest thing was getting that wolf head to stay on the body.” Cold control slid over her like a familiar cloak as she slid from his horse. Arya’s heart slowed down, her movements became slow to her mind and she felt like she was moving through water. 

The Hound made an exasperated noise as Gendry hissed at her for her to come back, wheeling his horse to stop as quietly as possible. She made her way over to the group of men as they continued their conversation oblivious to her, “ _You_ sewed it on?” Another man asked disbelievingly.

The original man defended himself, “I did.”

The disbeliever waved his wineskin in the air between them, “I bet there are a thousand men claiming they were the one.”

“It was me!...and Malcolm, and Talbert. Well the thing was so heavy it fell off the first damn time.” Arya stalked up behind the man not realizing she was spotted by the other three sitting across the fire. “Took the skin right with it. What ended up having to do was hook the needle right under the collarbone, give it a nice firm mooring...” Finally the man turned to face her.

“What do you want?”

Sansa heard her sister's lyrical voice answering, “Mind if I keep warm?” Arya asked keeping her voice deliberately high and sweet.

“Fuck off.” The disbeliever sneered drinking from his wineskin.

Arya gave a pitiful look, “But I’m hungry…”

“Does fuck off mean something else where your from?” the boaster sneered at her.

“I’ve got money!” She offered then dug into her belt pulling out the coin Jaqen had given her offering to the man. 

He raised his eyebrow then asked, “What kind of coin is that?”

“It’s worth a lot!” She assured him. The boaster reached for it, she slid her thumb up pressing the coin out of her pinched fingers and making it fall to the forest floor, she gave an innocent look to the man, “Sorry…” Arya reached back to the dagger and gripped it. Slowly pulling it from her belt as the man reached down to retrieve the coin.

“Little Shit.” he muttered. Arya grabbed the back of his neck and brought the dagger forward and down stabbing the man as he fell. He screamed and Arya ripped out the dagger again and plunged it back down two, three times more before she realized the other men were up on their feet. She looked up as they called her, a metal gauntlet shoved her back and The Hound was there his sword drawn, Gendry with him having acquired a sword as well as a dagger. One man attacked The Hound without a weapon, he backhanded the man to the forest floor swinging his sword upward to block the next attack. Their swords never made contact as the Hound slashed through the man’s gut sending him to the ground. Gendry ducked as the last man, the disbeliever swung his sword, righting himself he hooked his sword hilt on the attackers and disarmed him. The Hound swung his sword across his face killing him instantly.

Sandor stalked to the man he backhanded intent on killing him, “Wait!” Sansa called.

“What did I tell you Little Bird?”

“We can question him first, kill him later.” Sandor gritted his teeth at her decision but conceded, they had to know why the Freys had betrayed them. He went to Arya instead who was standing over the man she’d killed. Like he had said just last night, information was her arena. 

“Where did you get the knife?” Sandor asked Arya.

“Gendry.” She whispered holding up the bloody blade her hand shaking from her own actions. Sandor glared down at the boy who was looking down at his belt. Narrowing his eyes he snatched the blade from her.

“Is that the first man you’ve killed?”

“The first man.” She said.

“Next time you’re going to do something like that tell me first.” was his only chastisement. He went to Sansa then helping her tie the man to a tree when he had him secured she whispered to him.

“Is she alright?” Sansa had watched her sister stab the man at least ten times before Sandor had pushed her down to kill the other men. She wondered at the rage that was inside of her sister, flicking her eyes up she saw Arya pick up the coin she’d offered earlier and mutter something. Gendry looking at her warily before taking her hands in his own. Then she wondered at her own numbness to her sister killing someone, it should have bothered her. It would have bothered _Lady Sansa_ , but it didn’t bother her. Her next thought was even more disturbing, _“Who am I?”_ She shook the thoughts from her head. She was Sansa Stark, no longer a lady of the high court but a fugitive and above all else a Stark. _Queen,_ the word stopped her hands and nearly her breathing. Sandor distracted her. 

“Her first, she’ll remember it for the rest of her life.” He said absently. “Your sister isn’t like you, she’s not a lady. Got a lot of rage inside.” Sandor stood up and held out his hand for her. She took it and followed him around the tree toward the fire. Arya had tucked away her coin and was taking one of the rabbits from over the fire, testing it to see if the meat was done. Gendry had no such reservations, he ripped the meat and shoved it in his mouth.

“Arya?” Sansa asked as she sat down next to Sandor across the fire, “Are you okay?” Sansa had to much of a shock over the last day to really be scared of her sister. Now she was simply scared for her sister, she didn’t want her to be lost to hate and rage. 

“Mmmhmm.” She said around a mouthful of rabbit. Her husband took a rabbit from the fire and handed it to her. 

“Eat.”  She did mechanically, watching her sister do the same, her eyes holding a sharpness Sansa had never seen before in a woman only ever in battle hardened men, in Sandor. When she finished what she could she gave the rest to Sandor. “You need to eat.”

“I’m full.” He raised his eyebrow. “I ate most of it.”

“She’s always eaten like that Hound. She never finishes her dinner.” Sandor ripped into the last of her meal, himself starving. 

“Should we wake him up before we kill him?” Arya pointed with a greasy finger to the man tied up. 

“Not yet Arya. We need to know one thing.” Arya gave her a quizzical look, “Why they killed our brother and mother.”

“We don’t need to know why, just that they did it.” Arya argued.

“We do, we need to know who our enemies are.” Sansa felt almost cold, nearly shivering at the prospect of having to make a decision to end someone's life. She pulled away from it, not wanting to look at that ugliness not wanting to be apart of it. 

“The Lannisters, the Freys, Ilyn Payne… I have a list.” 

Gendry nodded, “Repeats it every damn night too.” 

“What if he adds another to your list?” Sansa argued. Arya sucked on her fingers.

“Guess that’s why your queen now and not me.” Arya shrugged. “You always were smarter than me.”

“I’m not a queen.” Sansa snapped refusing to think about that. Sansa couldn’t add that to her identity, Sansa the Lady, Sansa the Fugitive, now Sansa the Queen? No, it was simply to much. 

“ **Yes you are** . Robb is dead, mother is dead, Bran and Rickon are dead. Jon is a bastard. You are Robb's next oldest sibling. You come after him, and I saw the scroll.” Sansa stared down at her hands, they were dirty, greasy, and bloody. Her nails were torn and uneven, she didn’t feel like a queen. She didn’t even feel like herself, what was she doing running around Westeros like this? _Stop it!_ She snapped at herself. _You have been trained to be a lady since you were three years old, you could run Winterfell when you were two and ten. It’s your responsibility to your people to avenge Robb’s death._ This next thought came to her in her mother’s voice. 

“So you went through our things?” Sansa asked her sister who just shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You cannot be queen of nothing Arya. The North will have disbanded and I doubt very much they will want to follow another Stark into war.”

“Yes it does, just because the Northern army is disbanded doesn’t mean you’re not a queen.” Sansa put her head in her hands massaging the temples.

“Arya,” she said muffled but her sister cut her off.

“Do you remember the story father told us of the Targaryen girl and her brother?”

“Leave your sister alone She-wolf.” Sandor said through a mouthful. “She’s been through enough shit.”

“Yes, since you saw my marriage contract then you know I remember.” Sansa snapped suddenly.

Arya pressed on her mouth full of rabbit, “When King Robert asked father to come down to the capitol he told father of the last two Targaryens who’s escaped, said that the girl was going to marry a Dothraki horse lord.” Arya took the other rabbit off the spit and ripped off a piece of meat before handing it the Hound. “I heard in Harrenhal that she has a dragon now.” Sansa and Sandor exchanged a look, they knew there were three Targaryens left in the world. Sansa knew the dragon queen had three dragons in fact. She knew that the queen was planning on coming to Westeros and if the last reports she read were true she was bringing an army. 

“Dragon’s are all dead girl.” Sandor said from her side ripping the last of the rabbit up as he ate, “Been dead for at least fifty years. Even if she did have some buggering dragon it wouldn't be more than a lizard.” Sandor had picked up on her notion to keep the information quiet and her sister in the dark. Arya, while loyal and smart could let information slip without even realizing it. 

“You’re wrong! I heard she has an army. They say she has taken over seven cities even Meereen.”

“No man can take over Meereen.” Sandor sneered.

“She’s not a man.” Arya glared at him.

“No she’s a girl with a lizard and a name.”

“She’s across the narrow sea Arya. Her dragon will take years to grow _if_ she has one.” She should feel guilty for not telling her sister the truth, “You know she is the one that sent the marriage contract. If you think she does not expect me to bend the knee when she gets here you are insane. Then what will the North think of us? One king lead them to slaughter and their queen to obedience to a foreign Queen.” 

“What about the Baratheons?” Gendry asked suddenly. 

“What about them?” Arya asked.

“Renly is a sword swallower, it’s the worst kept rumor in the seven kingdoms. Stannis has a sickly daughter. All of Cersei’s children are bastards. The only Baratheon that matters is Stannis’s little girl.” Sansa answered, “Why?”

“What about bastards?” 

“Joffrey killed all of Robert's bastards.” Sandor finished the last of the rabbit, “He boasted about it as the first act of being king.” 

“He didn’t kill all of them.” Silence met that statement. Until a deep chuckle turned into a full on belly laugh from Sandor. “It’s true! That’s why the Gold Cloaks were after me, least that’s what Edrick said.” 

“Edrick told you this?” Sansa asked confused.

“He said that’s why Lord Stark and Arryn came looking for me.” Arya stared up at him her eyes wide. 

“Sansa make him a Baratheon! We can treat with Stannis.” 

“I can’t just _make_ him a Baratheon Arya. Even if I could he would be in direct competition to be King with Stannis.” 

“Gendry doesn’t want to be a king! But you’re queen you can do anything now.”

Exasperated she stood up and walked away from them not ready to deal with the situation at hand. She knew logically that this might happen but it seemed so far away from reality, she couldn’t be Queen of the North she had no idea how to rule. She jumped as cold gauntleted hands gripped her arms, Sandor turned her around to face him. “Sansa.” 

“I don’t know what to do.” Shesaid in a crying whisper. “I didn’t think that Robb would die. Then I dragged you into this. I don’t know the first thing about ruling. The North won’t come flocking to the Stark banner now. Not after this.” 

“You don’t know that Little Bird.” He cleared his throat, “You have a responsibility to your people. That didn’t go away, your people will suffer under Joffrey you know that. You’re a Stark, your family has ruled the north for thousands of years.” Sandor looked down at his little wife, her eyes dark and haunted. He’d come to learn her eyes reflected her mood, reflected her internal thoughts of happiness, anger, and now complete loss. 

“So are you.” She said.

“I’m not nearly as important as you. I never will be.”  

“Sandor, we’re married. You’re King of the North if I’m Queen. I can’t do this alone. I can’t!” 

“You’re not damn it.” he shook her by her arms, “I’m your fucking shield, husband and Hound. I vowed to take care of you.”

“I’ve never been in a war, I don’t know what to do. All I’ve ever been trained to do is be a wife and mother. That’s all I ever wanted was to have children and make my husband happy. What do I do?” He could see her eyes misting again, she was utterly lost. 

“Did your mother never tell you what to do in place of a siege?” she nodded her head, “Then you know we need a strong hold. Relatives are best. You have a rich Aunt in the Vale. We need to go there. Send ravens to leal lords.” He spouted off the instructions to her. 

“What about Winterfell?”

“You’re attacking it now. The second largest family will likely take it over. It’s not the Stark strong hold now. You have to treat it as enemy territory.” Her face drained of what little color it had, attack home?

“What about him.” She pointed to the man tied to the tree. 

“Your instinct was right-question him, then kill him.” He rasped at her. She flinched, “War is ugly little bird. You’ll face some ugly realities but never alone.” 

“Thank you.” She wrapped arms around his middle hugging him. Sandor, still not used to her affection, took a moment before wrapping his arms around her and stroking her brilliant red hair.  Turning from her husband she squared her shoulders mentally and walked toward her first prisoner. 

Sansa knelt next to her captive, her hands clasped in her lap. Sandor behind her, “You the maiden? Am I dead?” the captive asked his eyes still dazed from Sandors blow.

“No.” She said.

“My brothers…” he spied the bodies Gendry and Arya were piling on top of each other.

“Your brothers are dead.” Sandor said.

“You… you killed them.”

“Only two of them” His face lit up in an ugly smile.

“Get away from me!” he yelled struggling against his bonds, “Let me go.”

“Why would we do that?” Sansa asked in that odd calm voice she had, forcing herself to turn off all her emotions. This man had information she needed, that Sandor needed.

“Who are you people?”

“My name doesn’t matter, why did your family betray the Starks?” The man eyed the Hound giving him a look that begged for mercy.

“Wait! You’re the Hound! You’re for the Lannisters! Help me.” Sandor squatted next to his wife.

“Aye I’m the Hound, but I’m not for the Lannisters. Answer the lady’s question.”

“Will you release me if I tell you?” The man asked. 

“I’ll untie you.” Sansa said. 

“My father was offered to be lord of the river lands from the Lannisters. He accepted.”

“Any other lords know about this?”

“Ye…yes...the Boltons.”

“Why?” She asked.

“I don’t know….” He cried, “Please that’s all I know. Let me go.” She had seen enough people afraid of the Hound to know this man would keep nothing back. Sandor’s reputation while well earned sometimes evaded her. He was so different with her. She flicked her eyes up to meet his molton silver ones. A silent communication passed between them. He believed this was the best information he was going to get from the Fray as well. 

“Untie him.” Sandor did as she asked.

The man stood up, “Thank you my lady.”

“Sansa you can’t! His family killed our brother!” Arya called out as Sansa stood and straightened her plain dress. 

The Freys’ eyes widened at Sansa’s next words “Your family betrayed mine, my brothers blood and my mother's blood is on your hands.” 

“You promised to release me.” he stuttered out glancing at the Hound and the loose way he held his blade. 

“I promised to untie you. I never promised you your life.” Sandor drew his sword as she stepped back turning herself from the grizzly task. He swung it severing the Freys head. “Arya, add the Boltons to your list.” 

“Which one?” She asked as Sansa went to Stranger scratching the warhorses neck. 

He nuzzled her shoulder looking for a treat making her wince slightly, Sansa turned to her sister, “All of them.” 

*****

**King’s Landing:**

“Roslin caught a fine fat trout. Her brothers gave her a pair of wolf pelts her wedding. Signed Walder Frey.” Tyrion looked up at his repulsive nephew shrugging his shoulders, “Is that bad poetry or is it supposed to mean something?”

“Robb Stark is dead, and his bitch mother.” Tyrion’s shoulders tensed, did that mean Jamie was on his way back?

“There’s more! Hand him the other one.” Joffrey pointed excitedly. 

“The red wolf spotted on my land with her ugly dog.” That one was far more to the point. “So Sansa Stark has been found? And Clegane?”

“He’s not a Clegane any longer.” Verys pulled out a scroll and handed it to him. Tyrion read it quickly looked around the room. “I just received it this morning my Lords and your Graces, from a contact on Mooten Land.”

“Well,” Tywin gestured with his hand, “What does it say?”

“It’s a note saying that the Hound has given the Stark Princess his cloak.” another sheaf of paper fell out, it was a rude copy of their marriage contract. The Imp stared at it then burst out into laughter. 

“What is it?” Tywin asked again. Tyrion passed the other sheaf to his father. He read the note impassively. 

“It seems House Stark is alive and well.” Tywin sighed. “Clegane took her name.”

“She can’t do that without a royal decree.” Joffrey sputtered. 

“She has one. From Daenerys **Targaryen**.” Tywin flung the paper into the middle of the table. “Sansa Stark is for lack of a better word Queen of the North and now she will kneel to the Dragon Queen when the Targaryen turns her eyes to Westeros.” Tywin crossed his legs leaning against his chair. His head pounded, how had a twenty year old girl out maneuvered him? Out maneuver the council? Obviously she didn’t, she had help from someone in this room. His eyes landed on his son, not him to obvious. Then his green eyes passed over Varys, the Spyder was known to help countries in need and it was convenient that he happened to have a copy of the marriage contract. Tywin just needed proof now.

Cercei picked up the pages and read them, “If the North resists then…”

Tywin cut her off, “The North is half of the land in Westeros. If Sansa Stark allies with Daenerys Targaryen we will have a very real threat on our hands.” 

“She what?!” Joffrey screamed, “She would marry a dog over me! I am the King!” Joffrey, it seemed, was determined to focus on the slight against him directly and not the major issue at hand.

“Any man who must say he is the King is not the King at all.” Tywin put in. “So our virtues little wolf has fooled us all.”

“No! He took her from me! I know he did.” Joffrey screamed. “He forced her to marry him.”

Tyrion held up the note before tossing it at him, “Then why does he bare the Stark name now? You realize your assigning him to the girl caused this. You _knew_ he was ... is in love with her but you had to torment the girl didn’t you?” Tyrion asked. “Now you made your abused dog a King and let’s not forget you tormented the Stark girl for years! They will never settle for peace now. Sansa Stark tried to kill you if you don’t remember. Everyone of us here would have or **did** counsil you against making the Hound her guard, but now the North has a King with far less scruples than Robb Stark. Far more battle hardened and knows the Lannister army inside an out. Tell me how does it feel to be so stupid? I really must know.” 

“Joffrey she is nothing now my dear.” The queen grabbed his hand, “You have a new betrothed. Margery...come now she is much prettier than Sansa. And your Grandfather will help sort this out with the North.”

“She is mine! I want her found, I want her brought in front of me and I want Clegane killed.” He bellowed. “Send the Mountain after him!”

“She’s not yours anymore. She belongs to the Hound. The day you pinned Clegane and beat that girl with Trant’s sword you endanger us all!” Tyrion gritted through clenched teeth, “You’re an idiot to think she won’t rise up against us now.” 

“Everyone is mine until I say so you little **monster**!”

“Oh monster is it? Perhaps you should speak to me more softly then. Monsters are dangerous and just now Kings are dying like flies.”

Joffrey looked at him in shock, then to his grandfather and mother, his grandfather was smirking down the table at his deformed son. “Find her.” He snapped at the council, “Bring her to me alive with Clegane. I want their heads on a spike.” Joffrey stormed from the council chambers, the queen leaving after her son. 

“We have a mole,” Tywin announced to the room. “One of you helped this she bitch out of King’s Landing.” He stood up and walked behind littlefinger and varys, “One of the two of you gave her that fucking contract.” His hands clapped down on either mans shoulders, “And one of you will die for it.” He squeezed Varys shoulders deciding he did not need proof after all. He would have Varys killed within a fortnight, the master of whispers was a good one but a treacherous one.  

Lord Baelish gave Varys a side eye’d look, so the eunuch had played his hand boldly. Now Sansa was with the brute when she should be warming his bed and becoming his wholey and totally. He needed to get some dirt on Varys, dirt that would stick. And Sansa, he would need to track her down and bring her back to her side. She would see reason eventually. 

**Bear Island:**

Cold winds blew against Lady Mormonts face. She was too young to be at her post but even now she felt the weight of her mother's death and those implications on her shoulders. She died fighting against her enemy, looking down in her court yard she saw what was left of her battered men trickle in and find their loved ones. Robb Stark had made a stupid decision and it resulted in the desimation of his family and the North. Lyanna was angry, but where did anger get her? She crumpled the ravens note before the Maester could take it back. “When does Lord Bolton arrive?” 

“He’s already here my lady. I’m preparing a room for him.” 

“Stop the maids and escort me to the hall.” 

“My lady there is another thing you should know.” her maester said, “It’s said Lord Bolton tried to Kill Lady...er Queen Sansa.” She extended her hand, she remembered meeting Lady Sansa once. The beautiful redhead had stopped another boy from pushing Lyanna over giving her a flower; Lyanna informed her she would rather have a dagger. Sansa had informed her, rather snottily, that courtesy was a ladies best weapon. She hadn’t understood then, now she needed to understand. She wished she had asked Sansa exactly what she had meant. 

Upon entering into hall Lyanna was seated between her Maester and Master of Arms, she straightened her shoulders and nodded to allow her unwanted guest in. Lyanna didn’t care shift in her black sable lined cloak. When he entered, Roose looked tired and annoyed, his coat was dirty and his men looked scared. 

“Lady Mormont.” He dipped into a superficial bow, “I came here….”

“I know why you came here,” she interrupted him, “You need my island, you need me, you need my men on your side. The Lannisters have promised you the North in exchange for your treatery to the North. You may hold Winterfell but you are no Stark.”

“All the Starks are dead my Lady.” 

“The North remembers.” She shouted at him, “It seems the Boltons have forgotten in their cockiness.” At Roose’s pale face she continued, “There must always be a Stark in the North, always!”

“A little girl believes in fairy tales.” He sneered. 

“The white walker that killed my grandfather was real enough,” She snapped back, “You do not have Bear island hospitality and rest assured that I have sent ravens out to loyal lords of the North. Keep your traitor status close at heart my Lord. It will kill you one day.”

 

"My Lady you would be a traitor if you do not accept King Joffrey's ruling on my wardenship." He truly did not want to hand over the child to the half mad king. 

 

"I will tell you what I told Stannis Baratheon. Bear Island knows no Queen but the Queen of the North, whose name is Stark."  


	17. Every Fucking Chicken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite Sandor scene!

They rode for a day and a night everyone tired and silent, when they stopped for the evening Gendry offered to walk the grounds, Arya went with him. “Let me see your shoulder,” Sandor said sitting down and taking a rare moment to relax.

 

Sansa rolled her shoulders, ignoring the pain, “It’s fine.” she said sitting down next to him, “I just want to go to sleep.”  

 

“Let me see it Little Bird.” He unlaced part of her dress and pulled back the plain cloth. The dress she’d bled into had been folded and put away in his saddlebags, “You finally stopped bleeding.” He traced his thumb down his crooked stitches making sure they were holding up when none of them moved he deemed himself satisfied. “You’ll have a scar on your pretty skin.”

 

Sansa blushed prettily at his words, “It’s alright…”

 

“It’s not. I will kill the bastard that did this to you.” He bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to her wound making her shiver. His hand cupped her chin making her look at him, “Remember my promise I made to you little bird. No one will hurt you again or I’ll kill them.” She held his hand in hers blue eyes met silver and she the worry in them. 

 

“I remember my love.” She whispered, “And I’ll hold you to it.” 

 

__

Arya found a low branch and sat on it, huffing loudly. She could still see her sister and her apparent _husband_ from where she was but was reasonably sure they couldn’t see or hear her. “You’re still mad at her for marrying him aren’t you?” Gendry asked picking up some dry sticks. 

 

“I just don’t understand! How could she marry the Hound? What is so damn appealing about him? He has half a face!” 

 

“Would you have still kissed me if I had half a face?” Gendry asked; Arya flicked a beetle crossing the branch.

 

“You’re different.”  She could see why the Hound would want to marry Sansa. He’d been watching her all the while she was in King’s Landing, just like every other lord and like the evil prince. But why would she give herself to _him_? 

 

“How?” 

 

“Because you’re not like...like…” She cut her eyes to the two again then flushed a deep scarlet to see them kissing. The Hound's hands cradled her sister as he pressed her against him Sansa’s hands were wrapped around his neck. They looked like her mother and father used to when they would kiss, “Because you’re Gendry and not a Hound.” She turned her head giving them the privacy she knew they wanted and spotted a tavern through the trees. “Look!” She pointed at it through the trees. 

 

___

 

“It’s been too long Little Bird,” Sandor said through his kisses. “I need you tonight.”

 

“It’s only been three days.” She said through a sigh.

 

“Too long.” 

 

“Arya…”

 

“When she’s asleep, you’ll just have to be quiet.” He tilted her head toward his. “You still taste like honey you know that?”

 

“Honey?” She asked, her breath hitching as he descended on her mouth again. Her mind was going to mush when he started to kiss her like this. 

 

“Mmmhmmm,” was his response to her, _Fuck waiting, I don’t care what the little wolf sees._ He thought to himself and started to pull up her skirts. Her soft body yielded under his as he pushed her against a tree her leg hooking around his armored hip.

 

“Stop it!” Arya threw a stick at the Hound. “It’s broad daylight.”

 

“Fuck off then,” Sandor growled breaking the kiss his wife skirts still bunched up in his hands. 

 

“Tonight my love.” She whispered in his ear. 

 

“Now.” he rumbled back, pressing his need against her belly delighting in her squeak.

 

“There’s an inn over here!” Ayra threw another stick at him. “Get off my sister.” Sandor dropped his head into his wife's chest listening to her giggle at his expense. 

 

“Tonight.” He bade her turn so he could lace her up and then went to the heathen that was her sister. “Stop throwing things at me wolf girl. Where's this fucking inn?”

 

“There.” She pointed through the trees and next to Gendry, the young man was looking through the bushes. “I know we have money. I’m hungry, your hungry, Gendry’s hungry, Sansa is probably hungry….”

 

Sandor said from his spot next to Gendry. “Five horses, five men. They’re carrying the King's colors. Too many men to kill on an empty stomach.” He pointed to the blankets under the saddles. 

 

“There’s four of us.” He whispered back.

 

“My wife doesn’t need to be fighting.”

 

“Three then.” 

 

“I could go in and get us food, bring it back here.” Arya offered.

 

“Not around five men you won’t.” Sansa hissed suddenly between them her hair covered with the scarf she had used earlier with the brotherhood. The door below swung open two men filing out one dressed in red leather armor the other a plain tunic.

 

“I know him,” Arya said her entire body tensing. “The small one in the armor. His name is Polliver, he captured us and took us to Harrenhal, he killed Lommy.”

 

“What the fucks a Lommy?” Sandor asked watching the men as they pissed.

 

“He was my friend.” Arya paused as Sansa’s hand came to rest on her back rubbing it up and down, “Pollivor stole my sword and put it right through his neck.”

 

“He’s still got it.” Gendry pointed out.

 

“Got what?” Sandor asked.

 

“My sword; Needle.”

 

“Needle.” He said sarcastically, “Of course you named your sword.”

 

“Lots of people name their swords,” Gendry argued.

 

“Lots of cunts.” Sandor huffed. The bushes shifted and Arya slipped through them intent on following the men into the tavern.

 

“Arya!” Sansa hissed.

 

“What are you doing? Come back here!” They raced after her trying to stop her from entering the inn.

 

“Jon gave me that sword!” She said indignantly.

 

“Get back here!” He reached out and grabbed her shoulder forcing her to stop. Sansa and Gendry stopping short of running into the arguing pair.

 

“He killed my friend!”

 

“I don’t care if he **ate** your friend!” He growled at her, “We’re not going in there…”   He turned around as the door opened another man stood there. He backed up at Sandor's glare leaving the door open. Grumbling he went into the inn dragging Arya with him. He ducked under the low door frame and glanced behind him, Sansa was there. Gendry following her closing the door, the young man looked over at him a silent communication between them to protect the Stark women. 

 

“Keep your hair covered,” Gendry told her in his flea bottom accent. They found a table far away from the others, Sandor took off his sword belt resting his sword against the bench between them. Arya sat down next to her sister leaving Gendry at the end of the long table, he mimicked Sandor by resting his sword against the bench. 

 

Sandor glared at Arya. “Keep your heads down and wait for them to leave.” He growled really not wanting to fight five men. One man ripped a girl away from another making her cry out. Sansa moved to help the helpless woman, he glanced down at her, his hand coming under the table for a brief second to squeeze her thighs, stopping her from moving toward the girl.

 

“I know you…” Polliver looked over at them, she heard Arya suck in her breath reaching for Gendry’s sword, he grabbed her hand and forced her fingers in his. “You’re the Hound.” Arya relaxed, Sansa clasped her hands in front of her, looking down at the table. “Pour our new friends some ale.” He got up and walked over to their table, sitting down he asked, “What brings you so far North?”

 

“I could ask the same of you. What are you doing up here?” He rasped at the man, four cups were placed in front of him and all four filled with ale. Gendry took his as soon as it was full drinking half of it. 

 

“Just keeping the King’s peace.”

 

“No need, the war is over.”

 

“So I’ve heard. Stannis defeated at the black water,” Sansa flicked her gaze at Sandor, who kept his face impassive as he drank from the tankard. “Robb Stark killed at the Twins. And where am I for all of it? Stuck with your brother.” he waved his hand, “meaning no offense.”

 

“None taken.” Sandor bit out.

 

“He’s good, the Mountain is, the best at what he does but torture, torture, torture, torture you spend enough time putting a hammer to people you start to feel like a carpenter making chairs. Drains the fun right out of it and what’s life without a little fun?” Polliver looked her over then her sister, then back to her, “But I don’t need to tell you that eh?” Sandor looked down at her, she met his gaze shrinking against his beady eyes. “Got her trained good to I bet. Get she gets wet on command.” He leered at Sansa.  

 

“Stop talking,” Sandor growled out the warning punctuating each word.

 

“Alright, alright be a greedy bastard.” Sandor took another drink from his tankard. “You know what? You should come with us. His kind, they always have something hidden away gold, silver, more daughters. Always something if you know how to make them talk. And there’s plenty of ‘em between here and Kings Landing.” Sansa gripped her sister's hand under the table, “You could do well for yourself, we certainly have been.”   

 

Sandor looked down at Sansa, then back to Polliver, “I’m not going to King’s Landing.”

 

‘Think about it, we could do whatever we like, wherever we go.” He pointed to the leather on his chest, “These are the kings' colors no one is standing in his way now. Which means no one is standing in ours.” Sandor felt his wife's hand on his thigh trying to stop him but it was too late.

 

“ **Fuck** the King.” The laughter in the back stopped, only the crackling of the fire remained he picked up his drink and finished the contents. Sansa closed her eyes missing Arya’s smirk, her heart beating hard in her chest, so hard she thought she was going to crack a rib.

 

“When I heard that Joffrey's dog had run off with his northern prize I didn’t believe it. But here the two of you are.”

 

“Here I am.” Sandor snapped bringing the man’s attention back to himself and away from the girls. “Bring me one of those chickens.”

 

“You got money to pay for it?”

 

“ _You_ paid for it.”

 

Polliver scoffed, “No, but we’re the King’s men.” Sandor picked up the next cup and drank from it. “So you got money?”

 

“Not a penny. I’ll still take that chicken.”  

 

“Tell you what, we’ll trade you. One of our little chickens for one of yours.” Pollivers eyes landed on Sansa. She felt him undressing her with his beady black eyes in his head and shrank away again, they were so much like Joffrey’s. “Give us a go at your stolen girl. Lowell there likes them a bit broken in.” He felt his wife stiffen and grab on to him turning her face trying to hide behind him, to many times she had been threatened with rape, Polliver turned back to the trio smiling. “We can return what's left of her to the King after that, take her off your hands.”

 

Sandor returned it, then dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, “You’re a talker. Listening to talkers makes me thirsty.” He reached across the table and picked up Pollivers tankered, brought it to his lips and drained the cup. “And hungry, think I’ll take **two** chickens.”

 

Polliver glanced behind time, his men gave him a slight nod, “You don’t seem to understand the situation. We’re taking the girl…” Sansa felt the moment Sandor let the Hound step forward, there would be blood. Lots of blood in mere moments, carefully she slipped her hands from his hard thigh and readied herself to bolt away from the battle. 

 

“I understand that if any more words come pouring out your cunt mouth I’m going to have to eat every fucking chicken in this room.” 

 

“You lived your life for the King, you gonna die for some chickens?”

 

“Someone is,” Sandor responded. Breathless seconds passed before Polliver reached for his sword. Sandor gripped the edge of the table and shoved it forward and on to him. He turned and shoved a now standing Sansa behind him. He gripped his sword and went around the table, punching the first man who came at him and kicking him to the ground. Gendry following him into the fray like a lost puppy. The next man drove his sword at him he blocked it throwing him off balance and twisted to slash at his back cutting through tissue and bone. Another came at Gendry, he had more skill than he was prepared for, he parried his opponent's sword driving it to the ground. Finally, he was able to shove off the man but another attacked him forcing him back and on the defensive.

 

Sansa held her sister back from the fight. She watched as two men cornered him, one knocking him to the ground. Then three men surrounded him, kicking him, “ _If a man falls to the ground kick him_.” his words raced back to her. One of his attackers raised his sword aiming for Sandor’s head, she moved before she could think to attack the man with the raised sword. She snatched a fallen sword and ran toward man, the point of the sword sinking into his back. She gripped the sword's hilt with both hands to yank it out of the man. He spun on her a snarl on his face.

 

“The princess wants to play.” She took a step back as he advanced he lunged, disarming her easily, he grabbed her hands and pulling them above her head. His dirty hand reached up and ripped off her head scarf, his gauntlet digging in her cheek drawing a thin line of blood from her “Thought so. I’m going to fuc…” Sansa drew back her leg and kicked hard between his legs. He dropped immediately his sword falling to the ground. She lunged for it, snapping it up in her hands and pointing at him as he looked up at her. “Drop it wolf bitch. You’re not strong enough.” Sansa glared at him and gripped the sword with two hands and thrust like Sandor had taught her, deep into his belly.  A shiver ran up her arm as she felt the blade sink past his organs and muscles. The distinct feel of taking a man's life instead of giving it felt like a wave of repulsion. She snarled, shoving it aside and pushed the weapon into the man's gut deeper. 

 

Sandor kicked his opponent away and managed to get to his feet. He spotted Polliver on all fours racing to his sword. He stepped on it as he gripped the handle forcing him to look up, he punched him in the face sending his backward again. Sandor advanced on the man but was stopped when he heard the swish of a sword come down, he spun and blocked it just in time. Grabbing his opponent's wrist he forced the attacker's blade in a downward arch and into another man’s groin. The man shoved both of them off and his initial attacker pinned him to the floor a dagger at his neck. Sandor pushed against the wrist that held the blade, his other hand moved from the man's throat to the back of his head, at the same time he forced his opponents dagger hand to the ground and forced him to stay there. Snarling he forced the man's head down onto the blade piercing one eye then the other. He shoved him down one more time until he felt the blade pierce beyond the eye and the man go limp above him. Sandor shoved his opponent off of him and got to his feet.

 

Gendry kicked out at his opponent then slashed out at the attacker. He was met with deflections and ringing steel. He stood side-face as the man thrust his sword at him. Gendry disarmed him but lost his own sword in the process snarling he lunged at the man tackling him to the ground. He straddled him and punched him across the face again and again until he felt he bones crunch under his knuckles.

 

Arya watched from a distance as her sister tried to skewer her attacker, it wasn't enough. She ran up to her and gripped her hands in hers shoving the blade forward. Sansa pulled her hands from the blade letting Arya rip it from the victim. Polliver started to move again, getting to his feet and grabbing his sword, same as his intended victim, the Hound. She ran up to him and sliced his ankles with the sword, screaming he fell twisting as he did his sword flailed wildly she knocked it away with her own. Then calmly retrieved Needle from his belt pointing it at his neck. She stepped over him and his astonished face. “Something wrong with your leg boy?”

 

‘Wha...what...what do you mean?” He stuttered out.

 

“Can you walk? I got to carry you?” She continued remembering what he said to Lommy.

 

“Carry me?” He gave her a confused look. Arya held up her sword, looking at the smudges on it.

 

“Fine little blade.” then pointed it at Polliver's neck, his hands came up to beg mercy, “Maybe I’ll pick my teeth with it.” Recognition finally resounded in his eyes as she stabbed through his neck in a smooth motion.

 

Sansa fell against the upturned table staring at the blood on her hands. She’d _killed_ a man, another man's blood on her hands. Her hands started to shake in front of her, no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t control it, they continued to shake. The only sound she heard was the wet crunch next to her as Gendry beat a man to death. A huge form knelt in front of her causing her to kick out again. She struck the forms knee, then balled her fist to strike him again when a hard calloused hand grabbed her wrist stopping her. 

 

Sandor knelt in front of his wife taking her shaking bloody hands in his own. “Come here now Little Bird.” He pulled her close.

 

“He was going to kill you.” She whispered. “He was going to kill you.” her fingers traced over his face smearing the still wet blood on him. “I was going to lose you and ...” Sandor cut her off. 

 

“I know. But he didn’t, you stopped him.” He pressed his forehead to hers, she was not built for battle and now he had a bone to pick with her sister. “Put it from your mind little bird.”

 

“How? A life is gone.” She cried out. 

 

“Look at me.” He grabbed her face in the way he was wont to do, “You killed a Lannister man, you killed a man who had no issues with raping young girls and killing them. You did a good thing.”

 

“It doesn’t feel good.”

 

“It never does to a soul like yours.” He rasped. 

 

The innkeeper raced down the stairs, “My Lord… you have my thanks.”

 

“I’d rather have a bed for my wife.” He snapped.

 

“Of course of course!” He called his daughter, “Ready the largest room and the smaller one too. Boil water after that.” Sandor picked up his wife and carried her upstairs following the girl.  

 

“I’ll bring your water.” She raced away. Arya was in the doorway when he looked back up.

 

“Got your fucking Needle back.” He snapped at her.

 

“She’ll be okay. She has you.” The girl spun away and went to her own room. Sandor stared after her long after she vacated her spot.

 

“Sandor?” Sansa’s voice penetrated his thoughts.

 

“Aye little bird?”

 

“Are you hurt?” She asked, needing to focus and anything and everything else- that what happened below.

 

“No.” he traced the cut on her cheek, “Bruises will heal but nothing is broken.” The girl delivered a large bowl of water and several rags.

 

“If it please my lord, my father wants to feed you and your party.”

 

“I’m not a lord.” He snapped at the girl.

 

“Food sounds good!” Arya called from her room. Gendry made his way up the stairs and taking the other bowl from the girl. The girl scurried away shutting the door behind her. Sandor sat Sansa up and unlaced her dress tugging it off of her, her shift next both falling to the floor. He dipped the cloth into the warm water and cleaned her off.

 

“I should beat your sister for doing this shit.”

 

“Don’t, she’s always been like this.” He frowned at her, “please my love.” She pressed her palm to his face, “Please don’t. I know you’re angry but please don’t.”

 

“Your sisters' stupidity could have gotten you both killed.”

 

“You won’t let that happen.” She kissed him on the burned side of his face, “You won’t let anything happen to us.” her soft words were becoming too much, her naked in front of him she would be willing if he pressed to the mattress he knew. The line between violence and sex was already blurred for them, he didn’t need to blur it more. No matter how great his need after any battle.

 

“I have to get our horses… help with the dead. Wash your hair and get some rest.”  Sandor stood up and reached down to grab her shift and dress, intending on getting them washed.

 

“Sandor..” She reached for his hand, “Don’t leave me.”  

 

He gripped her face in his other hand pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You don’t want to be around me right now little bird. I told you once before a man's blood is up after a battle.” Her eyes grew wide and for an instant he thought she was afraid of him. 

 

“I.. can’t be alone right now. I’ve never killed anyone before… please don’t leave me.” Sandor took off his boiled leather and chainmail letting it fall to the ground. She stood up, “Let me at least clean your face and hands your covered in blood. I have to do something.” Sandor dragged his teeth over his lower lip gave her a nod. She stood gripping his shoulders she urged him to the bed where she had been sitting. Once he sat Sansa took a clean cloth and cleaned his face, neck, and finally his hands. Sandor let her clean him pulling her to his lap when she was done, she let the cloth slip to the floor as he dragged her into a kiss that tasted like blood, desperation, and fear.

 

***

Arya scrubbed her face and hair enjoying being clean for the first time in what felt like ages, Gendry had dropped off the bowl then went to get more rags to wash himself when she was done. She lay on the straw bed closing her eyes she started to drift off when she heard a sharp gasp and a groan. Her eyes popped open, she has heard those kinds of sounds before in Harrenhal, a lot before the men rode out. She looked at the wall that divided her room from her sisters, a natural hole was in the wood, despite her loathing for the Hound she was curious about what made her sister choose him. Arya knelt beside her bed and spied through the hole.

 

The Hound sat on the end of their bed, her sister sitting on his lap, her back to his chest. Their profile facing her, she saw the Hound gripping her sister’s hip in what she was sure was a painful way and pulling her hair back so he could bite her neck. Her spine arched outward as she bounced up on down. Arya’s eyes widened at the image, was he hurting her?

 

“You’re too big like this.” She panted on top of him.

 

“I’m just right,” he growled at her thrusting his hips up, Sansa was squeezing her eyes shut and leaned forward placing her hands on his knees forcing him to let go of her neck. “Seven hells woman keep doing that.” He groaned. Arya couldn’t tell what she was doing to the Hound but he liked it, he twisted her hair in his hand and let Sansa ride him.

 

“You shouldn’t be watching that.” Arya spun covering her mouth to stop her yelp, Gendry stood in the doorway rags in his hands

 

“I…. I thought she needed help!”

 

“Her husband is helping her.” He splashed some water on his face scrubbing the dirt and blood off. Arya watched him curious about what her body was doing. She knew what could fix the ache between her thighs, but didn’t want to push it with Gendry, she liked him a lot. Her sister's moans became muffled driving her to peek through the hole again. The Hound had his hand over her mouth, he’d pulled her back against him one of his hands between her legs. She spun away from the hole not want to acknowledge how those noises made her feel. “You wanna take a walk?” 

 

“No.” She said softly, Gendry shut the door and came to her pulling her up in his muscled arms into a deep kiss. 

____

 

Sandor erupted inside of her still gyrating his hips as he did. Sansa panted in his lap tired and wanting nothing more than to snuggle deeply in bed with her husband and never wake up. He kissed her neck the scruffiness of his beard tickling her neck.The physical outburst of his orgasm mixed with hers brought the emotions she had been trying so hard to shove down up to the surface. 

 

Finally, she broke, her tears welled up in her eyes and fell freely down her face as he pulled her close to him and let her grieve for her family. Sandor slipped from her and shifted her so he held her to his chest. She rested her head against his shoulder and let the silent tears slip down her face. “Seven hells, little bird,” He brushed her hair out of her face and traced her cheekbone, “Never wanted you to see the ugliness of war.” his whisper was raspy in her ear. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything as he comforted her in his own way. The loss of his own sister had been too much, he couldn’t imagine losing three loved brothers in less than a fortnight. He unconsciously squeezed her closer to him wanting to comfort her but not knowing how. 

 

Sansa took the comfort he gave her and wrapped herself in it, his heavy arms around her were like armor against the world and pain. The Hound’s warm chest was safety and security and his kisses were hope. 

 

He kissed his way up her neck to behind her ear when she finally stopped crying and sleepy rested against his chest, his coarse hair under her cheek bringing her a strange sense of calm in the maelstrom of her emotions of grief.  “Don’t let it break you little bird. You’re stronger than that.” He shifted moving her hair so he could have access to the back of her neck. She leaned over to kiss him again when she heard a sharp cry from the next room and muffled curses. The sounds made her look up at and at him the glassy look in her eyes clearing, Sandor was glancing at the wall that separated their room from Arya and Gendry’s. 

 

More pained cries came from the next room, she tried to get off of Sandor’s lap wanting to go to her sister, “Not what you think Little Bird.” He rasped at her, “You’re going to have to give over that moon tea.” 

 

“Did I sound like that the first time?” 

 

“Mmmm...worse, the only damn thing that didn’t summon the guards was my hand over your mouth.” He said with his eyes closed. “You’re still that loud.” 

 

“I am not!” She sniffed but a smile played about her lips. 

 

“Aye, you are. I like it how you scream for my cock.” He pulled her down kissing her. “Now get some rest.”  

 

****

 

Gendry came downstairs a short while after Sandor, he helped with the last of the bodies being drug out to where Sandor was already digging the mass grave. “Damn lucky the little bird didn’t break down your door boy.” He rasped shoveling dirt out of the pit, Gendry flushed a deep scarlet, “Slower next time. Girls got to be ready before you stick them.” He said as he jumped down to help dig.

 

“She was wet mostly, I just … .Gods, I don’t know what the hell I was doing.” 

 

“First time?” Cheeks still burning Gendry nodded. “The only thing better than killing.” 

 

Gendry snorted, “I don’t think she’ll let me do it again.” 

 

“She will.” 

___

 

Sansa hastily threw on a dress and went to her sister's room, she knocked once then not giving her sister a chance to send her away she opened the door.  Her sister sat on the bed the blanket wrapped around her chest as she fiddled with her thumbs, she came to the bed and slid under the covers drawing up her knees. “So?” 

 

Arya scrunched up her face, “That just hurt.” She mumbled. “I don’t understand how you make it sound so good.”

 

“What happened?” 

 

“He just…” she made an exasperated sound, “I don’t know…. This is so embarrassing, tell about your first time.” 

 

Sansa smiled fingering her necklace, “It was on my nameday, on a table. He ripped open my shift.” 

 

“A table?” 

 

“It was closer than the bed.” she shrugged.

 

“Gendry tried to be soft but he said it was his first time too.” 

 

“Sandor wasn’t,” She asked Arya a few questions which she answered in a dull tone her cheeks flaming. “I see,” Sansa said after she described the fumblings.

 

“I mean he nearly finished right there! Right when he got inside!” Sansa burst out into a fit of giggles. “It’s not funny! I thought it would be like... like I don’t know. I wanted it to be as good as you made it sound.” 

 

“I’m not a maid anymore, and my husband knows how to get me ready. Experiment with him.”

 

“I don’t ever want to do that again.” She pouted, “I’d rather get stabbed.” 

 

“It gets easier.” Sansa promised her sister, “It will hurt less.” 

 

“I want…” Sansa cut her sister off.

 

“Don’t tell me what you want. Tell your man. Come on let’s get you dressed get eat something.” Since Arya’s clothes were disgusting Sansa made her put on a dress much to Arya’s irritation. 

 

____

“That’s how it’s done, boy. Don’t stop not even if she begs you. You do it until she comes apart.” Sandor was already drunk freely giving advice to the young man sitting next to him when Gendry asked. 

 

“Where’d you learn all this?” Gendry asked looking down into his ale tankard, which was now nearly empty. “I mean no offense but really?” 

 

“Grew up near a port. Whores will teach you anything if you got a big enough cock. Later from ladies at court, maids, scullery girls. Desperation drives people to do crazy shit.” He drank his tankard dry and set it down on the table. Gendry leaned back resting his elbows on the table. “Just got to find what the woman likes, give it to her and she’ll scream well enough for you.” The Hound rasped. 

 

“Your wife?” 

 

“Got to be a lot more drunk to give my little birds wants boy.” 

 

“Seriously you two? It can’t be any stranger than meeting on the way to the wall. Meeting a fucking lady at that.” 

 

“You talk too much.” the older man rasped. “Everyone wants to know how someone as pretty as spring could love someone like me. I keep telling her I’m old and mean but it don’t seem to bother her.” the innkeeper came by and filled his cup. For their ‘services’ he’d let the foursome stay, eat and drink without charge. 

 

“Me being a bastard doesn’t bother Arya.” 

 

“She isn’t a lady.” Sandor snorted draining his cup again. The ale was a good one, dark and clearly stored somewhere cold. “Not like her sister.” The conversation turned from women to weapons easily enough and by the time Sansa and Arya came down the stairs, The Hound was well on his way to passed drunk with Gendry already there. Gendry for all his might was trying to teach the Hound a bawdy song he heard in a tavern once but forgot the lyrics halfway through. “That’s not how the song goes.” The larger man slurred. 

 

“Yes, it is.” Gendry defended. By now a few local patrons had filtered into the tavern, with no trace of the earlier battle it was easy to fall into the simple routine of drunken revelry. Sansa sat on the bench next to her husband and took the tankered away from him.

 

“You’re already well past drunk my love.” 

 

“noimnot.” He slurred pulling her into his lap and took the tankered back. “That’s better.” He said pulling her long hair over one shoulder. “C’mere woman.” he clumsily urged her to rest against him. She gave in to his wishes with a smirk; resting her head against his unarmoured shoulder. 

 

Gendry simply stared at Arya. “What?” She asked him. 

 

“You’re wearing a dress. Never seen you in a dress.” 

 

“Don’t get used to it.” she snapped at him. 

 

“As you say m’lady.” He teased her. Stew was served to them by the innkeeper's shy daughter. The evening ended in Gendry and Sandor belting out a song that was apparently common among the men in the inn. Much to Sansa’s amusement, her husband had a wonderful singing voice even if it was currently slurring every other word.


	18. Braids and Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor's got some new skills <3

It was the middle of the night and Sansa was awake, her husband sleeping on his back on the bed sleeping off drink, sex, and battle. She sipped her water looking up at the sky wanting to see stars but only storm clouds greeted her. The quiet allowed her to think she knew Sandor had done what he’d done tonight night to make her forget about the pain of losing another brother. She smiled thinking of his bawdy song and rich voice ringing out over the other patrons. She knew he sang it to her, a different kind of song she supposed. She thought she ought to be crying not smiling, she should be feeling the tears slipping down her cheeks but nothing came. 

Sansa thought maybe she had given up all her tears, everytime she closed her eyes Greywinds bright yellow eyes stared back at her the last moments of his life filled with recognition of a former playmate. Thunder rumbled overhead, she prayed it would clear up before sunrise she wanted to be as far away from here as possible. She wanted to go home, she wanted to find the Bolton’s and kill them. She wanted to have babies and never be bothered with politics again.

~~~  
Sandor stretched in a bed that actually fit his huge frame, he let his muscles relax on the soft mattress his body searching for his wife. Finally he opened his eyes seeing the wooden ceiling above him, turning his head he saw his wife sitting at the bedside her face tear stained. She was trying to sew something together but her hands continued to shake so much so that she couldn't make the correct stitch. He felt her frustration rolling off of her, finally she threw down the tiny garment she’d been sewing and put her head in her hands bursting out into tears. Loud sobs that only spoke of agony, “Little Bird.” He tried to move to grasp her hand but found himself paralyzed only able to move his head. She didn’t respond to him or didn’t hear him. “Sansa.” An all too familiar voice sounded, with difficulty he turned his head to see Baelish standing at the entrance of the room. ‘I had them check. He’s dead, I had him buried where they found him.” Sansa’s sobs grew louder more pained. Lord Baelish came to the bed that separated them, he gently placed his hound helm on the bed. The helm turned to him on it’s own volition creak with the sound of melting metal, the eyes glowing as if flames burned deep inside of the helm, it snarled at him. 

“We need to leave for Winterfell.” Baelish’s odd voice sounded to his left. 

“Leave me.” She commanded. The helm moved toward him it’s metal maw opening the metal teeth glisten like a real wolves maw. Small delicate hands picked up the helm, he followed the helms movements. Sansa pressed the hard metal to her chest hugging it like she would a child or a doll. Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder, Sandor snapped his head toward the unknown person. His father stood there, old and grizzled. 

“Time to go son.” 

“Fuck that.” He snarled at him. 

“Don’t torment your wife any longer than you need to. Don’t linger. When the time comes, walk away.” Sandor forced his body to move, every ounce of strength was poured into him moving his hand and snatching his father's he pulled himself up on his arm. 

“I won't leave her to die like you did my mother. Like you did Eli.” he snarled. The visage of his father fell away and the tiny wolf girl stood there. 

“Death doesn’t care about your love Hound.” the girls tiny hands turned his head toward his wife again. “She has so much more pain to live through and there is nothing you can do to stop it. You can’t protect her, just like you couldn’t protect your sweet baby sister.” Arya’s mellow voice did nothing to stop the anger that rose inside of him at the sight of Sansa dressed in a tattered shift her nose and lip bloody she held her black and blue arm close to her. He could see the broken bones bumpy under the pale ivory skin. “She’ll turn to ash come winter.” Arya whispered in his ear. “All because you can’t save her.” Sandor shoved the wolf girl away from him she fell to the floor, her face covered under her shaggy brown hair. The thing that was his father- then Arya stood, the pale blue man stood in front of him again. He said nothing as he stalked toward Sandor. Sandor reached for his weapon only to find himself without one the blue man went around him and straight for Sansa. He roared and tackled the blue man to the ground, suddenly he was yanked back landing back on the bed. Soft lyrical humming penetrated his mind. He opened his eyes again to see his wife stroking his hair out of his face. 

He snatched her and pulled her to his chest, she squeaked in surprise as she fell to the mattress in his arms. He buried his face in her hair inhaling her lavender smell. “Another nightmare love?” He didn’t respond to her just pulled her closer to him. She stroked his hair, letting him take his time to process what the hell he’d just dreamed. She started humming again and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

He finally asked her, “Your gift came from the Children of the Forest right?” he had to still be drunk to be asking her this. 

“Mmhmm.”

“What else is there? What else does your North hold?” 

“What did you see?” She asked him stilling, quietly he described what he’d dreamed and told her of his first nightmare. Her eyes widened, “That’s a white walker.” 

“White walkers don’t exist.” He snorted. 

“At the small council meeting we got a raven from the Lord Commander, he says they are back. And my brother… he says he killed one.”

“He’s at the wall. Probably half mad by now.”

“Maybe, but if the Children of the Forest exist then so can Whitewalkers. Before you came to Winterfell with Robert my father had to execute a man for deserting the Night’s Watch. He said he saw a White walker.” She stood from the bed and went back to the window her path lit by a single candle, “Winter is coming Sandor. The Maesters at the citadel think they understand but they don’t know. Stories of White walkers are passed down from parent to child in the North.” She picked up her goblet seemed to lose interest in the liquid halfway to her mouth. 

“Winter has always come Sansa without White walkers. You’ve been alive for three of them yourself.” 

“Not like this one.” She said finally taking a drink, “This one is different. If you are dreaming about it then you know it.” 

“You shouldn’t fear dreams.” 

“You should listen to them,” Sansa set her cup down as he sat on the edge of the bed. Thunder rolled above them.

“So this winter, is going to be special somehow. A myth will come back to life and kill us all. Come on wife, even southoners know the myths of the whites.” Yes, he was definitely still drunk to be entertaining this idea. 

She looked from the window to him, “Do they tell you stories of how snow will fall a hundred feet deep, how the sun hides for years and children are born live and die all in darkness? Do they tell you these things in the south? Do they tell you how mothers great ladies and peasants alike smother their babies after they are born rather than see them starve? Do they tell you these things my love?” he shook his head, no it had just been a strange bedtime story for him, a story to keep unruly children in bed. “The North remembers. We will always remember, you’re of the North now.” She went to the saddle bags and pulled out the wooden box. She opened it and pulled out something of it before coming back to him. She took his hand and put it in her lap, “You’re Lord Stark now that all my brothers are dead. You should have it.” She pressed something cold and hard in his hand. When she moved her hand he saw the cloak pin her father had worn many times. 

“I’m not a lord.” She closed his hands around it. 

“All my brothers are dead Sandor. You are Lord Stark now.” She sounded like she was fighting back tears, her teeth clenched through her words. “You are my Lord, my king, my everything.” she said climbing on to his lap. “I love you.” She threaded her hands through his hair tilting his head back and settled on his lap as he pulled her shift to her waist she needed him to take her to oblivion again, needed him to help her. 

She teased him, trailing her hands down his chest and rising to her knees she reached down and grasped the length of him, knowing what he liked and disliked she stroked him into a painful hardness. She relaxed her knees and rubbed herself against him, her still slick womanhood gliding over him easily.

“Stop teasing me,” he growled.

She smiled and positioned him at her entrance and sank down low enough to take his tip in she rocked back and forth slightly. Making him grit his teeth, his hands found her hips he squeezed them.

“Not deep enough …”

“That’s where it stops like this.” she panted.

Planting his feet on the bed and bending his knees, “It’s not,” he thrust deep a groan leaving his lips, his head pressed back into the pillow. Sansa gave a sharp gasp as he took her, his hardness filling her and stretching her. The pain of it over nearly instantly turning to warm hot pleasure now flowed through her body as she tried to accommodate him, trying to stretch to his huge length and girth. She felt his fingers digging into her fleshy hips. He moaned and bucked his hips up again. Hot powerful sensation ran through her as tiny sparks of pain pleasure radiated from her woman's place she braced her hands on his chest as he pumped into her, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open, “Move Sansa. Move your hips.” He jerked her hips toward him and back, she did as he commanded moving her hips back and forth over his, bouncing slightly. “Fuck.” He pushed his head back further still as her hips gyrated on his.

“Sand…” she panted out, one of his huge hands wrapped around her neck Sansa felt a tight ball start to form inside of her at the base of where his strokes ended, she rolled her hips. She heard him moan under her. She didn’t back away when he placed his hand on her throat, didn’t fight him, no instead he felt a tiny tremor in her chanel. 

“Just like that. Like you’re riding a horse.” he panted as she rolled her hips again chasing her release; her body giving her instructions and she followed them without question. He started to squeeze his hand around her neck, the pressure increased in her lower belly, Sansa placed her feet on the bed and rose up on him and slammed her body down, he growled at her. She did it again using his body to find her own release, Sandor pulled her forward by her neck, forcing her forehead to meet his. Sansa gave a muffled whimper as he angled his hips deeper pounding into her. “Don’t stop. I need to feel your cunt squeeze my cock.” He ordered her, his thrusts became more forceful and he struck deep inside; fracturing the tight ball crying out she met his thrusts with her hips.

Sansa grabbed at his arm that held her neck feeling the hard muscle under her hands, she slammed herself down on him as he thrust upward and the tension inside of her exploded. Her entire body tightened and her walls clenched around him as he fucked into her “That’s it little bird come for me. Good girl. Come on my cock.” She sobbed out her release in the form of his name, “Fuck!” he pounded into her, tightening his grip on her neck “Fuck.” He slammed into her and erupted powerfully into her. They both panted in the night, silently locking hands, “I love you.” he rasped at her. “Seven hells little bird I love you.” Sansa leaned over and kissed him.

“That’s the first time you’ve said that to me..while I’m awake.” she panted. 

“Fuck me little bird. Aye...and how could I not. You’re fucking perfect for me, like the Gods made you just for me.”

“Not that I’m complaining but how do you mean?” He pulled her shift off and traced the swell of her breast enjoying the way her nipple tightened. 

“Tell me girl what would happen if I spank you?” 

“Spank me?” She asked confused. 

“Get on your knees little bird.” Slowly she lifted herself from his body and kneeled. He slipped off the bed taking her shift in his hands, “I’ll show how your perfect. Put your hands together wrists. 

“Sandor… what are you doing?” She asked as he bound her hands together with her shift and tied the other end low on the headboard so her head so forced down and her ass was forced up. 

“Trust me little bird.” He settled behind her, he’d never taken her like this, never from behind and from what Sansa knew a man his size would hurt. “Relax, you’ve taken me before.”

“Not from behind.” she murmured. He told her to say the word ‘lemons’ if she got scared and before she could ask anything further his hard hand came in contact with her rear. Sansa jumped at the unexpected slap on her ass with his hand making her squeak but also made her oddly aroused. Sandor slapped her again and again each time consecutively harder, as she tensed for the next one she found him soothing her red flesh.

Sandor controlled his breathing as his wife wiggled her perfect ass higher in the air and bent her head to bed. Her bottom lip was caught in her teeth, he raised his hand and struck her with it. Her gasp sent him reeling, it wasn't pained and he could smell her arousal. He struck her again and again finally eliciting a pleasured groan from her. He soothed her raised red skin with his hand once again and enjoyed the gooseflesh rising on her skin. Once she had relaxed into his hands again he dipped his hand lower and sank two fingers into her soaking quim. “Like that did you?” she nodded meekly, “Good girl.” 

He once again settled behind her and pulled her hips toward him his member sliding into her wet sheath easily. Sansa groaned at the  deliciously painful spreading of her body to accommodate him. His hand turned her face toward him as he bent over her kissing her, bracing himself on his other hand. He thrust into her drawing another whimper from her; “I think my cock is your favorite part of me.” To accentuate his point he slammed into her making her body quiver. “Look how my cock makes your body weep. Makes your mouth say filthy things to me. Tell me I’m wrong little bird.” Sansa was beyond answering and he well knew it, “Bite the pillow.”  His breath was hot against her ear and did as she was bade. He held her hips in a tight rigid position forcing her chest down on the bed bracing himself again he fucked into her feeling his hips slam into hers, she gasped at the penetration. “Your fuck hole is still so tight.” She moaned into their shared pillow and pressed her ass higher into the air, “Good girl, knowing what I want. Give it to me little bird, give me your cunt.”

Sandor watched her ass is it bounced against his hips jiggling from the impact, sweat starting to gather on his forehead and he slapped her ass again. The cracking sound covered her moan he gazed down at the red handprint on her pale white ass and slapped her again. He brought his knee up then the other, squatting on his feet he slammed into her cunt, she made an utterly feminine sound the thought it sounded like her sucking in her breath and moaning at the same time. She clamped down on him and he felt the small tremors that always preceded her orgasm. He released her hips and grabbed the globes of her ass cheeks spreading them. Her asshole was a perfect circle and he needed to fuck it. “I’m going to fuck you in your ass.” he felt her cunt squeeze him.

Sansa was lost in his pounding, heavy breathing, and grunts, she braced herself against the mattress and he spread her ass apart, telling her he was going to fuck her in her there. His hands gripped painfully on her behind, she felt his member strike her sensitive patch and she the tension inside of her was near breaking point. She wanted so badly to reach between her thighs but couldn’t tug them free of her shift, she turned her head and panted, “More!” 

“Greedy little bird.” But he gave it to her, hammering into her. Sansa bit the pillow as her body convulsed as she screamed into the pillow. “Fuck me.” he rasped behind her stroking her through the convulsions. When she was done Sandor withdrew from her, his cock dripping with her juices and positioned himself at the entrance of her asshole. “Relax Little Bird.” She didn’t hear him as he rocked his hips into her tight hole. She was so relaxed he was able to get halfway in before she gasped in pain.

“You’re too big for that.”

“Relax.” He ordered her again rocking his hips back and forth, “It won’t take long.” He panted, “You’re so tight.” She relaxed and he inched in, “Rock back, tell me where to go.” She did angeling herself on his manhood to allow it to slip in effortlessly. “That's it.” He said hoarsely. Sansa gasped when he reached around her legs started to stroke her clit, her sensitive swollen flesh tingled when he pressed his calloused hand to her, sending more shockwaves through her exhausted body.

“I don’t know how much more I can take.” She whispered to him. 

“You’ll take what I give you.” He growled,  Sansa shivered and he resumed stroking her clit, he wasn’t gentle about it, slowly he rotated his hips stoking himself in her body. He thrust in and out of her enjoying the way her hole gripped his cock when he withdrew. Sandor’s head fell forward dropping his head to between her shoulder blades he listened to the small mewling sounds that she was making. He rubbed her clit and felt the tremors start in her body, feeling them in her ass, he rocked his hips forward gaining a gasp from her, his balls tightened, he snapped his hips forward again and again feeling the familiar tightness in his lower back he sank his full length in to her. Sansa squealed and jumped under him forcing him to steady her by gripping her hips. Sandor groaned, sharp shooting pleasure ripping through his body he erupted inside of her. Sansa’s peak was fast and hard and very wet, hot warmth flooded his hands and he knew her thighs would be slick with it too. 

Sansa’s thighs were shaking as he withdrew from her, she collapsed on the bed into the small wet spot she knew she had created. Sandor knew he’d pushed her tonight, he’d not done so in a long long time, he thought to himself as he untied her hands. He laid down next to her catching his breath and pulled her to him, chest to chest he petted her until she came back down. Stroking her back and kissed her forehead as she caught her breath on his chest. 

The very air that surrounded Sansa felt heavy, she stared into a dark corner of nothing her mind trying to make shapes of the swirling dark but never got further than faded smoke. She didn’t noticed him untying her or laying down next to her in bed. The quiet was on her again, gradually she became aware that she was shivering and a blanket was being wrapped around her with the anchor of her lovers arm. His words filtered in through the smoke, “Good girl.” he said softly rubbing her back and threading his fingers through her hair brushing out some tangles. She couldn’t really make her mouth move but didn’t seem to need to as he wrapped his other arm around her, “See little bird, you’re perfect. In every single fucking way.”  

She moved her head on his chest falling asleep nearly instantly on him. Sandor picked up a lock of her hair twisting it between two fingers, he decided if the stranger himself tried to take his perfect wife away he would kill him.    
-  
Sansa woke to the muffled screaming emanating from her sisters room next to hers, for a moment she blinked blearily wondering why her bedchamber at home looked so strange, then she heard a man's voice. “Seven Hells you’ll wake everyone up.” Gendry said laughing. 

“I don’t care.” her sister panted. “Do it again.” Sansa laughed into Sandors chest discovering he was laughing too. 

“Guess the boy took my advice.”  He rumbled. “Sleep a little while longer little bird. I’ll get the horses ready.” Thunder boomed over head making both of them stop and look to the ceiling above them. As soon as Sandor opened his mouth another crack of thunder erupted.

“I guess we’re staying one more day.” she giggled under him.

“Good I’ve not had you to myself since we’ve been married.” 

“You’re so big.” She blushed, he rolled her under him pressing her into a kiss she sighed against his mouth, “You keep this up and we’ll be in bed all day.” He moved down her neck biting her every so often making her gasp. 

“What’s wrong with that?” He pushed his knee between her legs forcing her to spread them wide for him. 

Sandor watched his wife sleeping in a tangle of sheets and blankets and was struck with an inspiration he’d not been hit with in many years. Going to the saddle bags he found her journal and charcoal pencil, flipped to the back and took a seat across from the bed. He put the pencil to the paper and sketched his little birds form. Her tangled hair giving him trouble, her lashes framing her cheekbones and long arms hugging the sheets to her body. Sandor leaned back when he was done with his work and flipped the journal closed not wanting to pry into her private thoughts. He carefully stored the book back where he found it and dressed for the day. 

They wound up staying for three days, Sansa trading half her moon tea for their stay and supplies and giving the other half to her sister with strict instructions and warnings. Arya knew the risks not being able to have children apparently didn’t bother the six and ten year old. When they left the inn keep gave them enough food for a week, telling them it was a gift for making sure his daughter didn’t suffer for anything those men had done to her. 

*****

In the next week they were back out on the open road making their way to the vale. As per her usual she was up late, leaning against her husband; Sansa sat next to the dim fire, her journal open to the makeshift calendar, she’d forgotten to mark their nights together. Everyone else was sleeping but Sansa was worried, she nibbled on the pad of their thumb as Arya sleepily said to her across the fire, “What’s wrong Sansa?” Her sister looked tired even with Gendrys arm wrapped around her middle, she closed the book and set it back in the saddle bags.

“Nothing, go back to sleep.” Arya was too tired to fight her sister and fell back asleep. 

A week later when Arya started her moon she groaned and waited until Sandor and Gendry were asleep before approaching her sister. “Sansa.” She shook her, careful to not disturb the Hound, he was a right tyrant if he woke early.

“What is it?” She asked blinking blearly at her, she tried to move her husbands arm from across her waist but it proved futile. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m bleeding.”

“Where?” She looked her sister over looking for wounds.

“No it’s my moon.”

“Oh!” her eyes widened then she said. “Sandor, I need to move.” he grumbled something and rolled to his back. Sansa went over to the saddlebags and dug through her things she pulled out a some stacks of cotton and handed it to her. “I’ve been using moss to catch it all, but I think grass could work too.”

“Thank you Sansa.” Arya took the proffered cotton, “Thank the gods it’s only for a few days.”  Sansa nodded her agreement then went back to her bedroll with Sandor. By the time she got back Sansa was asleep again but the Hound was awake waiting for her to get back to camp. She settled down her back to her man as she stared at the embers between them and recited her list like a prayer, “Joffrey, Cersei, Walder Frey, Meryn Trant, Tywin Lannister, Ilyn Payne, The Mountain, Roose Bolton…”

Sandor looked over at her, “Would you shut up?”

“I can’t sleep until I say the names.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“The names of every fucking person in Westeros?”

“Only the ones I’m going to kill.”

He chuckled, “Hates a good thing as any to keep a person going better than most.” It disconcerted him how similar he and the wolf bitch were, “We come across my brother maybe we can both cross a name off our list.”

“If he were here right now what would you do?” The wolf girl asked him. His gaze fell to the fire, he knew exactly what he would do; not only for himself but to the threat against his wife, Gregors two late wives and his sister. Sansa adjusted her head on his mailed chest, he traced small patterns on her slim shoulder fantasizing about the screams his brother would make when he finally killed him.

“I’d tell him to shut the fuck up so I can get some sleep. Go on, get it over with you list of doomed men.”

“I’m almost done, only one name left.”

“Go on.” He growled at her. Arya rolled over and laid her head on Gendry’s chest.

“The Hound.” Sandor stared at his Good Sister, what the hell did he do?

***  
The next morning Sandor woke up to a blue sky and the smell of cooking sausages, as he sat up and glanced around Sansa was gone, his eyes snapped to Arya’s bed roll. It was empty. He bolted to his feet, bags were opened and riffled through, “Sansa!” He bellowed he got no response. Sandor ran around the boulder the hid their camp nearly shoving Gendry off the cliff and spied the girls. “They’ve been awake for hours.” Gendry yawned clearly haven just woke up himself.  His shoulders relaxed immediately, his wife was washing their clothes and had managed to build a small cooking fire, while Arya was twirling around with her sword. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about as he watched them from his point above them but warmth filled his chest.   
_____

“I just don’t understand it Sansa,” Arya spun her needle around, “Why him? You were scared of him when father was alive.”

“I was a stupid girl.” Sansa said from her bent position over the water, scrubbing futility at the blood in her dress. She’d had managed to get most of the rusty stains out of Sandors clothes which she thought vastly unfair. On a frustrated sigh she gave up on her dress and laid it out next to the others then inspected the clothes for holes that needed mending.

‘No, I mean. How can you lay with him?”

“What do you mean?” She said picking up one of Sandors shirts and finding a massive slash in it. “I just fixed this.” She muttered.

“I saw you.” Arya swished her sword this way and that, it looked rather ineffective to Sansa but her sister was occupied, “And heard you.”

“You saw us?”

“There was a hole in the wall between our rooms. You sounded like you were in pain.” Arya jabbed at nothing, “So I looked.” Sansa blushed scarlet and searched for her needle and thread she’d found at the bottom of her bag. “So why do you like it with him? You said he isn’t soft.”

“I just do.” Sansa murmured anchoring the thread.

“You sounded like it hurt. Does he force you? I’ll kill him!” Arya stopped in front of her sister her chest heaving from her practice.

“He’s a rough man but …”

“He was yanking your hair and biting you!”

“Arya! Stop spying on me. No he doesn’t force me.” She shivered at the memory of his hands on her, his hips slamming into hers. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“Do you?”

“Do you really want to have this frank of a conversation?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” she angrily stitched the shirt together, the stitches never varying in size or angle, “What do you want to know?”

“I’m not trying to be mean, or embarrass you. It’s just mother didn’t talk to me about my blood. I had to have a man explain it to me. I thought I was dying.” Sansa looked up from her stitching, her eyes softening on her sister.  “Did your first time hurt like mine?”

“Yes.”

“How bad?”

Blushing furiously she tied a knot in the thread before cutting it, “I… I didn’t think he would fit. It hurt for a few minutes but then he did something I don’t know what but I was shaking by the time he got done. What about Gendry?”

“It was better the second time.”

“Told you.” Sansa teased her sister. She spun around apparently done with the conversation and started her routine again attacking a non existent foe, Sansa selected another shirt to mend keeping her eyes on the cooking meat.

Arya spun and thrust as best as she could remember and pointed her sword at the hound, startled she brought the sword back to her, “The hell you doing?” he looked disheveled with his hair matted in knots. Arya spun around away stabbing the air behind her.

“Practicing.”

“What? Ways to die?”

‘No one's going to kill me.”

“They will if you nance around like that.” he chastised her, “That’s no way to fight.”

“It’s not fighting, it’s water dancing.”

“Dancing!” He sniggered, “Maybe you ought to put on a dress like your sister.” Arya went down on one knee, her sword pointing toward him and glaring at him. “Who taught you that shite?”  

“The greatest swordsman who ever lived.” She did a cartwheel, knowing it was something that he couldn’t do and pointed her sword back at him. “Serio Foryl, the first sword to the sealord of Bravos.”

“Bravos. Phhfft. Greasy haired little bastard was he? They all are.”

“What do you know about anything?”

“I bet his hair is greasier than Joffrey's cunt.”

Arya stopped practicing and stormed over to him, “It was not!”

“Was? He dead?”

“YES!”

“How?” He put his hands on his hips amused by the little wolfs anger.

“He was killed!” Arya shot back.

“Who by?”

“Meryn Trant. That's why he’s on my..”

“Meryn Trant? The greatest swordsman who ever lived killed by Meryn fucking Trant?!”

‘He was outnumbered.”

“Any boy whore with a sword could kill three Meryn Trant’s.”

“Serio didn’t have a sword or armor! Just a stick!”

“The great swordsman who ever lived didn’t have a sword?” He giggled he looked down at the thin weapon she carried, “Alright, you have a sword. Lets see what he taught you.” Arya took a step back and spun the sword, “Go on, do it for your Braavosi friend. Dead like all the rest of your friends.” He glanced over at Sansa who had set aside the garment she was working on to watch them. Arya twirled her sword and stabbed him with all her force, the point stuck in his armor. He looked down at it then back at her, reaching up he backhanded her, making her fall to the ground on a cry. He stepped forward and collectected her sword pointing it at her, to her credit she didn’t raise her hands in surrender. “You’re friend died and Meryn Trant’s didn’t because Trant had armor and a big fucking sword.”

“Sandor!” He heard his wife yelling at him. He lifted the tiny sword from her neck and inspected it. It was good steel, flipping it in the air he handed it back to her and turned to his visibly angry wife.  “Don’t ever hit my sister again!” She berated him.

“The little lady wants to be a warrior. Do you think think she’ll get any better while learning elsewhere?”

“You never hit me!” She seethed at him, she helped her sister up and inspected her bloody lip, “Are you okay?” She asked her.

“I’m fine.” Arya said rubbing the back of her head, “He’s right Sansa.”

“He shouldn’t have hit you.” She glared at him.

“I never hit you wife because you didn’t want to be a warrior, I never hit you because you’re a fucking lady.” He defended himself.

“So is my sister!”

“She’s not! She’s got to much wolf in her to be a lady and you know it.”

“So you’re training her is that it?” Sansa snapped at him.

“Aye I’ll train the little she wolf.”

“I don’t want to be trained by you!” Arya glowered at him.

“Who else is going to teach you? Your man? He needs training too.” He snarled at Arya, “You want to wield your pretty little needle then wield it right. Consider that your first lesson.”

Arya thumbed the blood coming from her lip and cut her eyes at him, “What do you want in return?”

“Fucking peace and quiet at night.” Gendry came down the hill, oblivious to the interaction that just happened. 

“Fine then.”  

Gendry spied her split lip, “What the hell happened?” He demanded.

“Training.” Arya and Sandor said at the same time. 

They stayed in their small camp for one more day, resting. Arya watched her sister ignore Sandor even as he tried to talk to her much to her amusement. She could see the frustration on his face and when Sansa left to wash her hair in the river below she finally told him what was wrong, pitying the poor man. “You’ve never been on her bad side have you?” He glared at her from across the small fire. “She won’t talk to you until you apologize.”

“Fuck that. You’ll get hurt worse when we train. When you two train against each other.”

Arya smirked breaking the scab that was on her lip, “I don’t think she’ll let you do that either. Just swallow your stupid pride and apologize or she’ll sleep next to me again tonight.” She chewed on the last of their dried meat.

He grunted as he pushed himself up from the forest floor and went down the embankment, the she wolf was right. He hadn’t slept without her against him last night, without her lavender smell or even the feel of her soft skin under his fingertips. She’d taken off her dress and bunched her shift up between her legs as she stood in the shallow end of the river. Sansa was bent over washing the last of the soap from her long hair.

“Sansa.” she ignored him. Sighing he stripped off his armor and boots and his tunic he rolled up his pant legs and waded into the water to her. The water was cooler than he expected as it ran up to his ankles, coming up behind her he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to his chest. “I’m sorry I hit your sister Little Bird.”

“Why did you do it?” She asked him, speaking to him for the first time in nearly a day.

“I’ve trained so many greenboys and that’s the only way they learn. The only ones that survive.”

“Did you ever hit Joffrey?”

“Aye, but your sister is tougher than that little prick. She didn’t cry when she hit the ground. Just kind of grunted, your sister is a warrior little bird.” He pressed a kiss to her exposed shoulder. It wasn’t the hot needy kiss he usually pressed to her lips, instead it was featherlight almost sweet if it hadn’t been so unsure. Sansa leaned back against him shivering at the texture of his lips against her skin, his hands rested on her flat tummy as he pressed her against him. They stood in the water for several moments before Sansa grasped his hands in hers turning her face up to his, “She’ll get hurt again, you know that.”

“I do, it’s just that she’s my baby sister. I remember holding her hands when she learned to walk. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“She’s a warrior at heart, little bird. She will never be happy in skirts and sewing.” She rubbed his arms as he hugged her. “Sleep next to me tonight?”

She smiled, “Yes.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

‘But first you need to wash your hair.” She bent down and handed him the soap, standing on her tiptoes she kissed his cheek and got out of the water. Sansa made her way to the rock she had dried their clothes on and started to comb out her long hair. After several minutes the hound joined her sitting between her spread legs his back to her front arms resting on her thighs.

“My mother used to comb my hair after a bath.” Sansa said as she dragged the comb through his thin hair before moving to the other side of his head holding the thickest most tangled side. Sandor let her deft gentle fingers work through his hair, relaxing at the feel of her fingertips against his scalp.

“The last time my hair was brushed by another I was 6.”

“Before Gregor?”

“Aye, hurt too much after. Even Eleanor couldn’t do it.”

“Does it still hurt?” She said tugging gently on a tangle, noticing it had grown at least two inches since their run from King’s Landing.  Running her fingers through his hair she found herself braiding it out of his face.

“No little bird, it doesn’t.”

“Good.” She tilted his head back and kissed him on the forehead.


	19. All Things New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we see an interesting turn in the Hound and Joffrey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Ao3 is a bit overloaded ATM, let me know if there are any glaring errors I didn't catch <3

Joffrey flicked the lace on the edge of his table and looked at Margery, he liked her well enough and he supposed that's all he needed in a wife but she was no Sansa. He like squelching the fire that was Sansa Stark, he couldn’t do that to Margery Tyrell. Her she-devil of a grandmother would be all over him, likely trying to kill him. But Margery HAD  admired his crossbow… he liked that about her, she seemed to understand him and wouldn’t flinch when he snapped. Maybe she was the better choice for him. The lace swung back and forth an ugly mix of their house colors. 

His uncle had drained all his fun by refusing to send someone after the Stark girl and the bloody Hound. Instead he sent Baelish to the Eyrie sure that Sansa would stop there. Joffrey cast a sideways glare at his uncle. He wanted his toy back. Something tapped on his shoulder, he looked up to see his uncle jamie. “Jamie!” He popped up from his chair and moved to hug him before remembering his kingly status. 

“Joffrey.” He smiled, his hair was longer and, “You’re grace,” he gave a small bow.“Roose Bolton bade me give this to you.” He produced a small scroll. Joffrey took it and waved him away. He broke the scroll immediately and read the message. 

_ The wolf bitch and her hound escaped her brother's fate. Lady Mormont sides with the dead Starks, they have been lost to us.”  _ He crumpled up the paper and felt a small soft hand on his forearm. Margery was looking at him with concern then plucked the missive from his hands. The brunette read it quickly and flicked her eyes up at him, “Sansa will seek family.”

“How do you know?” He snapped at her.

“Because, my love, that’s what I would do.” Joffrey stared at her, “Send ravens to the Eyrie my King. Spread lies against Sansa. Anything you need to say to prevent the north from allying with her.” Joffrey took his newly discovered blood thirsty wife into his arms and kissed her. Yes, she was better than Sansa he decided. “Just put a son in me before the Stark girl gets here. That’s all I ask my love.” 

***

For the next two weeks Arya, Gendry, and Sandor trained every morning while Sansa managed to forage something for breakfast their rations running out a week earlier. After they packed up they would travel north to the Vale covering great distances during the day. Arya’s mood seemed to lighten toward Sandor, taking each lesson in stride and proving more apt than herself with a blade. She was a good student, taking the criticism and always getting back up. 

“We should rest, a storm’s coming.”  Arya called out the the other three. The hound finished pissing and laced himself back up. In their treck across the lands Arya and Sansa had grown closer, more understanding of each other and the men seemed to have devised a way to tell each other to leave when they wanted their respective woman. The first time Sandor sent Gendry away with Arya- Sansa was confused but when Sandor pulled her into his arms she was grateful for the moments alone with him. 

“See any place to rest wolf girl?”

“There’s a bridge down there. It’ll keep the cold with the four of us.” Gendry pointed out the stone structure down the hill.

“What do you think Little Bird?” He asked. Sandor was worried for her, though he would never admit it. They had managed to eat well last night catching a few rabbits but Sansa was pale and seemed to be sleeping more and more. 

“I think as long as we stay dry I don’t care.” They made their way down the hill and found a small stream with passing under the bridge.

“Damn.” He cursed under his breath.

“We could travel a bit further to see if we find a hut or something.” Gendry gestured to the bucket that sat next to the river.

“We’re still in the Riverlands. If what we hear is right Walder Frey is ruling it for Joffrey the wrong people could set the Lannisters back on us.”  Sansa said, “Maybe we should stop in the woods again?”

“To far back.” Sandor muttered.

“Seven blessings to you all.” An unfamiliar voice called. All four looked up to the bridge where an older man with a small girl were being pulled by two horses a cart of hay behind them.

Sandor palmed his dagger, “What do you want?”

“What do I want? This is my land.”

“I’m standing on it, it’s my land.”

“We were just watering the horses.” Arya said, “We’ll be on our way.”

“Forgive my husband, he was wounded fighting in the war. Our cottage burned down while he was gone. My young brother with it. We barely made it out ourselves.” Sansa gestured between herself and her sister. “He’s not been the same since.”

“Which house did he fight for?” the man asked.

Arya picked up the lie as only sisters could, “The Tullys of Riverrun.”

“There’s a storm coming you’ll be wanting a roof tonight. There’s fresh hay in the barn and Sally here makes rabbit stew just like her mother used to. We don’t have much but men that bled for house Tully are welcome to it.” 

When they arrived at the home Sandor pulled Sansa down from Stranger, “Look at me little bird.” He forced her to look up at him with his fingers under her chin, “You’re sick.”

“I’m not,” She said then yawned, “I’m just sleepy.” 

“No, something is wrong with ya. I want you to eat till yer near bursting understand wife?” 

“Sandor…”

“Don’t argue.” he pressed his forehead to hers, “You cannot get sick on me, not now.” He felt her warm hands lift his face and kiss him lightly on the lips. 

“I’ll eat as much as I can Sandor. I promise.” He grunted his affirmation while Gendry pulled Arya down, “You always lie like that?” he whispered to Arya. 

“Not always,” She smiled up at him, “Sansa is better at it than me.” Gendry groaned before leading them into the barn as directed by the man.

 He heard Sansa asking him, “I’m sorry we didn’t ask your name.”

“Rogor, and you lass?”

“Sansa, this is my sister Arya and her husband Gendry.” Gendry stopped midway to the barn and spun around glaring at his lover and Sansa.

“A girl under all that dirt?”

“Yes.” Arya made a vain attempt to scrub her face like she used to do when their mother would chastise them.

“And your man?”

“My husband, Sandor.”

“There’s water behind the barn, if you would like to clean up before dinner.” After they washed Sansa scrubbing at a particularly dirty spot on Arya’s face they were told dinner was ready and brought into the main house. It was simply decorated and sparse in furniture but warmer than they’d been in days. Seated at the table Sansa bowed her head and listed to Rogor recite the Sevens prayer. She sat across from her sister, and between Sandor and Gendry. 

Sandor grumbled to himself, “You going to do all seven of the fuckers?”

“Sandor!” Sansa nudged him, “So sorry.”  She offered up as Rogor finished his prayer. Sandor reached for the strew the instant the man was finished and filled his bowl, Arya snatched it next, no less hungry Gendry snatched it next.

“Go on lass.” Sansa filled half her bowl and then passed it to the small girl. Sandor brought the bowl to his lips Arya and Gendry doing the same as they slurped down the broth noisily graciously Sansa ignored it and picked up her spoon eating as fast her decorum would allow, her mother’s training refusing to leave her. “Long time since your last meal?”

“Yes.” She said. “Really good!” She complimented Sally.

“Did you fight at the twins?”

“You call that a fight? Slaughtering livestock more like.”  Sandor spooned bits of rabbit, carrots, and potatoes in his mouth.

“They’re calling it the red wedding.” Arya set down her bowl and picked up her wooden spoon eating slowly and listening. Sansa had stopped eating all together, her spoon hovering over the edge of the bowl. “Walder Frey committed sacrilege that day. He shared bread and salt with the Starks and guest right. Begging our pardon ladies.”

Sandor grabbed a roll of break breaking it two and handing Sansa one, when she didn’t take it he looked down at her “Eat, wife.” She dropped her spoon in her stew and took the bread murmuring her thanks, “Guest right don’t mean much these days.”

“It means something to me. The gods will have their vengeance, Frey will burn in the Seventh hell for what he did. Things were different when Hoster Tully ruled the river lands, we had good years and bad years same as anyone but we were safe. Now with the Freys, raiders come plunder, steal our food, steal our silver. I was going to send Sally North to stay with my brother but the North is no better the whole country has gone sour.”

“Who controls the North now?” Sansa asked, already knowing the answer. 

“The Boltons lass.” Sansa squeezed the soft bread in her hand, not realizing it. Sandor eyed his wife, she was angry. The only thing in this world he had seen her so angry over, so he said:“That’s enough talk of Freys and death.” 

“Of course...sorry lasses.”

“Eat little bird.” Sandor said again, this time Sansa lifted the spoon to her mouth not tasting the flavorful stew, satisfied Sandor turned his attention to Rogor, “You got any ale?”

“‘Fraid not.”

Glowering at his bowl Sandor muttered, “How can a man not keep ale in his home?” Ripping a bite out of the brown bread.

“You both look like you could really swing your swords, real warriors with proper training. Those raiders wouldn’t stand a chance against either of you. How would it be if you stayed on ‘til the new moon? I could use a few men to help with the farm work, Sally does what she can but she can’t lift a bale of hay and if any thieves came looking for any pickings one look at you I bet they’d run the other way.” Sansa tensed waiting for Sandor to bark out something nasty. “Meaning no offense.”

“What will you pay?” He asked surprising her and Arya, who both swung their heads looking at him in shock.

“I don’t have much but I have hidden a bit of silver from the bandits. Fair wages for fair work?” Sandor looked down at his wife, she’d lost weight since their run from King’s landing and he didn’t like the look of it. Her cheekbones were more defined, her eyes sunken in, she’d always been thin but this was too much, and she could rest. In a proper shelter without shivering in the rain.    

“Fair wages for fair work.” he agreed. When they stumbled into the barn sometime later Arya passed out almost immediately on the soft hay curling up with Gendry. Sandor pulled off his armor and boots finding a spot big enough for both of them he pulled Sansa’s boots off.

“Will you really stay until the new moon, it's three and a half weeks away?”

“Aye. it’s easy enough work and you can rest, put some flesh back on you.”

“You’d have me fat.” She smirked down at him.

“Aye, I would.” He pulled her down to the hay with him. Sansa went willing with him finally able to sleep on his chest without the poking rings of his armor, she fell asleep cradled against him.

****

In two week Sandor and his new trainees continued their lessons; they were getting good, Sansa thought to herself, she also thought that while he was just as mean in their training he was more encouraging. Sansa learned Sally was shy but brilliant, together they sewed and Sansa told her tales of the capitol strictly sticking to ladies court and dresses that seemed to entrap the girl. Sansa also spent a great deal of time writing in her journal, she was sure now she just didn’t know how to tell him. 

It had been six weeks since they left the inn and eight since her last moon. She knew he wanted this but some selfish part of her wanted to keep the information to herself a bit longer. Surely by now he must be wondering why she fell asleep so early and why she continued to run to the bushes nearly every morning. But if he had noticed he’d not said anything at all. So she wrote in her journal, her fears and hopes for their child and musings about how he would react to such news-after all they had not used any preventive measures. 

At the start of the third week she woke with Sandor and waited until he and Gendry left to help Rogor with the morning chores. She slid on her dress and kissed her husband before he left and gathered the unused cotton and willow bark tea she had been collecting, she could tell her sister at least, “Arya.” She knelt next to her sister who was presently pulling on her boots. 

“Hmm?” She looked over at her sleepily. Sansa put the jar in her hands with the cottons. “Oh thanks. How’d you know I started? Wait, won’t you be needing this?” She looked at the willow bark tea.

“For a strong brew leave the herbs in, back twinges are the worst.” Sansa said softly. 

“Sansa, you’re better at measuring this sort of stuff than I am. Wait you said leave the herbs in? Why have you only been putting a half dose in our tea then?”

“To make it stretch, I only have so much and you needed some too.”

“Well keep taking your half dose then.” She shoved the jar back at her sister. 

Sansa pushed it back, “I won’t be needing it for the next few months.” Arya looked from the tea to her sister back to the tea. Arya threw the items down and launched herself at her sister. Sansa wrapped her arms around her sister, “Don’t tell anyone yet.” 

“I won’t. Remember what Maester Luwin told mother. You can’t lift anything heavy, you shouldn’t even be traveling. Remember he said the size of the baby is based on the strength of his father. Oh Gods! That's why you’ve been so tired!”

“I remember.” She smiled surprised Arya remembered everything they’d been taught as girls. 

For the rest of the day Sansa watched Sandor, Gendry, and Rogor work helping Sally bake and clean around the house. The men actually seemed to get along, which surprised Sansa, she supposed since Rogor didn’t really know about the Hounds reputation he didn’t really have anything other than his work ethic to judge him on, Gendry seemed to thrive under the direction and seemed to have a knack for fighting much like his Kingly father Sansa thought to herself. Arya was quickly outgrowing the lessons and seemed to beat Gendry at every turn, though she still could not beat Sandor who had nearly twice her age in experience and twice her weight in rage alone.

Tonight he came to her tired, but she could see his need plainly in his molten silver eyes as he approached her. Sansa passed the dress she was stitching to Sally, “Follow this pattern, just the ‘X’ like I showed you earlier and your dress will be good as new.”

“Wife,” he bent his neck kissing her making Arya blush and look for her own man and Sally giggle. “Stay out of the barn for a few hours.” He rasped at Arya.

“Husband.” She smiled against his lips he swung her up in his arms he made his way to the barn they passed a smiling Rogor.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing that come from your mouth.”

“I’ll save some stew for you.” Rogor called as Sandor shoved open the barn door with his shoulders and kicking it closed when they were inside. Walking over to their makeshift bed of cloaks and hay he set her down pressing his kisses on her. Sansa fought with his shirt trying to pull it off of him, he ripped it off for her.

Sansa traced her hands down his muscled stomach watching the muscles contract under her feather light touch, “I almost forgot.” His hands cradled her neck and chin tilting her face toward his.

“Forgot what?” She felt his twisted lips on hers, she closed her eyes but moved her hands to his sides. She felt his involuntary smile and laugh come between their kiss. “Dammit woman. I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Is that what your intentions are?” She tickled him. “I didn’t realize.” She giggled against him. Deep rich laughter filled the barn as she ruthlessly attacked his sides with her trailing fingertips. Sandor managed to wrestle her to the ground, pinning her under him. “I think you forgot I have four brothers.” She hooked her leg on his hip and tickled him until he bent letting her using her weight to slip him to his back and her straddling him.

“I’m gonna kill you.” He said between fits of laughter, trying to grab her hands. “Stop!” He managed to grab her wrists and pinned them to his chest. “You’re an evil woman.” He panted.

“I’m not evil…. Not yet.” She twisted her wrists from his grasp and went for his sides again only to find herself on her back again him over her pinning her wrists with one of his large hands. “Hey!”

“Damn it woman I told you I wanted to fuck you.”

“No one’s stopping you…” She said innocently.

“Just don’t blame me for whats about to happen.” He yanked at front dress laces shoving the panels of the dress to the side and thanked whoever was above she’d forgone her corset. He bent his head to her finding a taut nipple through the fabric of her thin shift and licked it before closing his mouth over her. Sansa gasped, arching into him, the changes in her body and also gifted her with sensitive nipples something her husband seemed to delight in but not understand. She wrapped her legs around his waist she rolled her hips against his needing him deep inside of her. Sandors other hand fought with her skirts pushing them up to her waist. Reaching between them he pressed his thumb to her woman's bud rubbing in small tight circles, her head fell back, heat flood her body and wetness pool between her legs. Sansa felt an empty ache start inside of her, she needed more and ground herself against him. He slipped a finger inside of her slick channel finding a sensitive patch deep inside of her making her pant under him. “You’ve been so wet recently.” He murmured before he added another finger to her stretching her for him. He made small circles with his fingers, Sansa rolled her hips using his fingers to find her sensitive spots, “Like that do you?” She whined her answer at him, “Good.” Settling on the spot he liked best he stroked it hard and fast wanting to watch her peak, wanting to watch her mouth fall open and hear the sweet song she sang for him. He pressed his thumb to her woman’s bud, flicking in engorged organ back and forth. She arched suddenly as her body clamped down on his fingers her voice ringing in his ears. Slowly he eased his fingers from her. 

“Hold your legs in place. I don’t want to feel anything but your cunt.” he moved from her breast to her face kissing her, taking her lips savagely. Sansa moved her hands to hook behind her knees pulling her hips up and spreading herself further for him. Both his hands descended to his laces freeing himself quickly she felt him align himself to her and press into her, she forced herself to keep her eyes open watching his face as he entered her. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open slightly, as he pushed himself deep inside of her. His face relaxed into a blissful state as he sank to the hilt inside of her, she couldn’t stop the pained sound escaping her, no matter how he prepared her for his size he always too large at first. “ **Fuck** .” He groaned as he ground his hips into hers.

Sansa gripped the back of her thighs as he filled her, keeping herself spread wide for him. She pressed her head back enjoying the full feeling her body was craving. He withdrew and slammed his hips forward pain turned into pleasure as his impact radiated inside of her. She gasped out his name, she moaned as her nails bit into her thighs, he braced himself on his hands in the empty space next to her head. Her hair spread out behind her on his cloak, she abandoned his command but kept her legs in place she wrapped threaded her hands through his hair and drew him down to kiss her. 

Her tongue pressed against his lips demanding he let her explore, he obliged her, but drew her hands back down to her thighs. When she tried to move them again Sandor growled at her from their kiss, “Keep them there girl.” He braced himself again on his hands holding her face inches from his. He slammed into her again, “Like that Little Bird? A big ugly hound pounding you with his cock?” She whimpered at his words, “No sweet slow  _ lovemaking  _ for you then?” He gave her his toothy smile as he pumped in and out of her. “No sweet flowery knight on top of you?” Sansa’s eyes fluttered closed as he pounded into her, her entire body moving from the force of it. She felt her breasts bouncing as one of his hands encircled her neck, his hand squeezing her small throat making her feel light headed and dizzy before he eased his grip. He dipped his head again taking her lips drinking down her sweet as sin song.

His strokes were becoming erratic and she begged him between kisses, “Don’t stop.” He only growled in response and tried to steady his strokes for her, he squeezed her neck again using it to focus. He braced himself on and found her nub again, thrashing it back and forth making her legs shake and her eyes rolling in the back of her head. Sansa erupted against him, her entire body tensed for precious seconds as wave after wave of hot pleasure rushed over her, her body contracted around his member still he fucked her sending her higher she screamed when she lost control of her body and felt warm liquid stream between her thighs and slide down her ass.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He repeated as he hammered into her she felt him slam into her one final time and his cock twitched, she felt the hot seed from his member fill her. He jerked forward with the force of his orgasm making her whimper at the almost painful impact. He made no move to remove himself from her neck or body as his breathing level out. Only taking her lips again kissing her thoroughly, “Love it when you scream my name like that.” Another deep kiss, “Love it when you do that too.” Sansa kissed him back wrapping her legs around his waist.

“It’s very messy.”

“Messy is good, didn’t I tell you that?” He nuzzled her neck making her giggle as his bread ticked the sensitive spots on her collarbone. 

***

Sandor left Sansa tucked under his cloak as he stepped outside, at some point after they’d fallen asleep Arya and Gendry had come into the barn. Gendry was still snoring in the barn but the she wolf was nowhere to be found. The new moon was only a few days away, he was anxious to get back on the road.  He stretched into the night air and found Arya sitting on the fence. “She wolf.” Sandor grumbled in her direction.

“Hound.”

“You should be sleeping.”

“I should be...but I can’t.”  Arya swung her legs under the open space of the fence looking like a child as she did, “You make her very happy you know.” Sandor didn’t say anything back to her uncomfortable with the emotions he was wrestling with in him,  Sansa was the only one that hadn’t been cruel to him with emotions. “Do you love her?” Arya asked him.

“Closest to love as I understand it.”

“Good.” All at once Arya spun on the wooden rail and hugged him, shocked he didn’t move. “If you ever hurt her I will put that sword through your eye and out the back of your skull.”

“I don’t doubt it she wolf.” He said finally wrapping his arm around the small girl. Before Arya could pull away a howl sounded from the not so distant woods, then a terrified shriek of a child.

“Sally is asleep.” Arya whispered. Another howl sounded and Sansa was at the barn door barefoot, wide eyed, and her thin shift hanging off one shoulder; the terrified shriek sounded again. She took off running towards it; Sandor cursed and followed her through the open meadow, Arya on his heels.

Instinct made Sansa ignore the cuts on her feet and scratches on her calves as she ran through the meadow and into the woods. Her heart pounding as her brain told her one thing, _ save the child _ . The scream sounded again giving her a better direction, she turned and followed it coming to a wolf corning a small child. The wolf spun it’s head in her direction as she crashed into the small clearing, thinking to defend its easy meal the wolf snapped at her. “Sansa!” Sandor’s voice bellowed from behind her. She heard him panting behind her, the wolf’s ears fell back assessing this new threat. A stone was hurled into the clearing scarring to wolf into running as Arya hurled another stone at it. Sansa barely waited until the wolf cleared the child before racing to the small blonde . “It’s alright.” She said stoking the child’s hair, “It’s alright.”

“Fuck me.”

“I’m sorry, I just...I couldn’t help it. What’s your name love?” She asked the grubby thing.

“Alice.” She squeaked trying to hide from everything.

“Where’s your mother Alice, your father?” The girl remained silent as she huddled against Sansa.

“Sansa, the wolf could come back with more, lets go.” Sandor said reaching down for her. 

“Let’s get you warm.” Sandor helped his wife up the girl looked at him and buried her face in Sansa’s neck. Once in the barn Sansa sat down with the girl in her arms, Gendry was finally awake lighting the few candles in the barn “Can you get me some water and a rag?” She asked him. He fetched it for her as she and Sandor sat down with Alice, the young girl had soot smudging her face, tears cleaning some of the grit from her. She was dressed in nothing but rags and Sandor could see her cheek bones  _ too skinny  _ he thought.

‘How old are you little one?” He asked. Alice ducked her head down again as Arya came in to the barn with Gendry holding some rags as he carried the pale of water .“Hush now, they won’t hurt you Alice.” The girl sniffled and turned her head to look at him, “See, they are both just a big softies.” Sansa whispered conspiratorially.

“Aye not mean at all.” He agreed _ , “ _ Where are your parents little one?”

“Mother left me.” The girl said trying to hard to pronounce each word. “Fairies supposed to get me.”

“Faires?” Sandor said, “I saw a fairy once.” Alice’s eyes widened as she stared at him, “She was small.” he gestured with his hands about a foot apart. “Tiny little thing, just like you.”

“Where?” Alice asked.

“In a forest in the North.” He wove an elaborate story as Sansa cleaned the girl off, she didn’t look like a normal girl, her pretty black eyes were too far apart and her forehead just a little to big, her nose small and button like. As she gently cleaned the child's back she felt the girls spine poking against her skin. She flicked her eyes to Sandor who had completely captured the girls attention. Her snarling hound had completely transformed into a lovable lapdog his hands animated, when he smiled at Alice’s giggle her heart tumbled over the cliff of her emotions. A burst of complicated joy, tenderness, and exuberance filled her body as she stared at her scarred husband. His eyes flicked up meeting hers, she smiled at him at the mischievous twinkle in his grey eyes. She had the urge to tell him that her moon never arrived, looking at him now she couldn’t bear it if she was mistaken or worse. 

The door to the barn swung open and Rogor stood there with a torch in his hand, “What’s happening?”

Sansa turned to their host and gestured to the small girl in her lap but Arya supplied the answer from her spot against the wall “We heard her screaming. A wolf had pinned her against a tree.” Rogor came over to the small girl and squatted next to Sansa.

“That’s Alice, she’s from the next farm over, about an hour away on horseback.” He looked down on the girl, she coward away from him. “Aye, I’ve caught you on my land once or twice stealing my carrots. Your Mother’s not here to save you now.”  Alice tucked her head into the Sansa’s chest hiding from the man, “She’s cursed, see her eyes they’ve got the Stranger lurking in them.”

“What utter nonsense is that?” Sansa hissed.

“Look at her! She’s not normal.” Rogor insisted.

“She’s a child!” Sansa argued.

“ **Enough** ,” Sandor bellowed, Alice whimpered in her arms, “we should ride over. No mother would have let her little girl went into the woods alone at night, we need to make sure the girl didn’t just run off or worse.”

“I’ll come with you, Mary needs to be taught a lesson about parenting ... if my Sally did this I’d beat her bloody.”

“You’re coming with us She wolf, Gendry. Another lesson. Sansa go and stay with Sally when we leave. Do not leave the house until I come back.” She bit her lip but agreed. Sandor saddled Arya’s horse and then Rogor’s, “Don’t have a sword do you?”

“No, and don’t let Alice touch my Sally.”

“How can you be so hateful to a little girl?” Rogor turned red with anger and spun away from her as Sandor came back toward her.

“I don’t think this is going to go well little bird.” Sandor murmured in her ear, gently reaching out and stroking Alice’s dirty hair. The girl cringed and whimpered under his soft touch.

“She’s just scared my love. Rogor didn’t help.” He frowned but accepted her answer, walking toward Stranger and retrieving his sword. He kneeled before her again and pressed his dirk into her hands. She tensed, last time she had held the weapon she had stabbed the King. 

“You remember what I taught you?” She nodded, “Good girl.” He kissed her forehead before leaving the barn. 


	20. Where the Heart is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter- but important.

Sally was woken up and brought to the barn and told under no circumstances to go near Alice, the girl nodded sleepily at her father before sitting down on some hay. The ride was silent as their horses pounded up the dirt beaten path, coming to the small farmstead Sandor smelled smoke before he saw the actual house, or what was left of it. In the slim moonlight he could see the house was burned to the ground, the fire thankfully gone, he swung off his horse drawing his sword glad he demanded the dagger from Gendry as they rode up. Arya and Gendry followed suit their own swords readied.

 

“See if anyone is alive.” He called out to Rogor, then turned to his unlikely students, “You see what I see?”

 

Arya pointed her sword the turned over the cart of vegetables, “This wasn’t an accident. Freys?”

 

“Doubt it. They would have taken the food.” Gendry stalked closer, stopping when they heard a cough. “There.” He pointed then walked toward the sound. All three squatted next to the man, Sandor could see blood coating the man’s stomach.

 

“You shouldn’t be out here like this.” The she-wolf said.

 

“Nowhere else to sit.” The older man groaned out.”Tried to stop them, but that bastard ran his sword through me.”

 

“Who did it?” Gendry asked.

 

“I stopped asking a while ago.”

 

“That’s not going to get better.” Sandor pointed at the belly wound.

 

“Doesn’t seem so.”

 

“Bad way to go, haven’t ya had enough?” Sandor continued. 

 

“Enough of what?”

 

Rogor came up to them interrupting the man, “Mary’s dead.”

 

“Rogor?” The man asked.

 

“Lucas? Do you know who did this?”

 

“No, my granddaughter...she ran.”

 

“My wife has Alice and Rogor’s farm,” Sandor answered the unasked question. 

 

“Good,” he breathed out heavily, “Lucky girl.”

 

“Haven’t you had enough?” Arya asked him again.

 

“Not strong enough to take matters into me own hands.” he groaned out in pain, “Can I have a drink? Dying is thirsty work.”  Rogor retrieved a water skin from Stranger, narrowly avoiding being bitten and handed it to Sandor. The Hound tilted the skin to Lucas’s lips and let him drink his fill. “Wish it were wine.”

 

“So do I.” Sandor said pulling his borrowed dagger from his belt and thrusting it between Lucas’s ribs. Lucas gave a strained grunt as the dagger plunged into his heart but gave him a slight nod of thanks. He withdrew the dagger from Lucas’s chest and cleaned in on his sleeve. “That’s where the heart is.” He told them. “Quickest way to kill a man.” Sandor stood up from his kneeling position.

 

“I’ll have to bury them, give them proper rights,” Rogor said.

 

Suddenly there was someone on his back trying to pull him back, he lunged forward and felt his skin break from the attack. Teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder he grabbed the back of his attackers head and twisted hearing the audible snap as bones broke. Sandor let the man fall to the ground spinning around and holding his neck where he bled freely grunting in pain. Gendry gripped Arya’s hand pulling her behind him but her sword in front of her defensively backing up. He placed himself between the attacker's companion and Arya, the other’s sword lowered to the ground, The Hound snarled, “The  **fuck** you doing?!” 

 

“There’s a price on your head.” The other said. He was dirty, his long hair greasy and limp. 

 

“Guess that’s what a king does when you marry his woman.” Sandor rasped looking down at his hands, fucker had bitten right through his skin, he pressed his palm to the open would trying to stem the bleeding.

 

“Aye that and for killing Lannister soldiers. A hundred stags.”

 

“That’s it?” Gendry snorted, he’d sold armor for three times that amount.

 

“And you thought you were going to collect it? Didn’t think very hard did ya.” He said sarcastically. Rogor backed away from the melee, behind Arya and Gendry and their swords.

 

“You were Yoren’s prisoners when he was taking me to the wall,” Gendry said softly moving from behind the Hound to next to him. Arya followed suit coming to stop in front of the Hound, her little face contorting into a snarl, “He told me he would fuck me bloody with a stick.”

 

“This day’s really not working out the way you planned. He on your little list?” The Hound sneered.

 

‘He can’t be I don’t know his name.”  

 

“What's your name?” Sandor asked.

 

“Rorge.” The other said.

 

“Thank you.” Arya smiled and lunged forward, stabbing Rorge through the heart as she had learned just moments ago. He gurgled before falling to the ground joining his companion in death.

 

“You’re learning.” The hound rasped. “Bury your dead men in the morning Rogor.” he stalked over to his horse and swung upon the beast determined to get away from the acrid smell of smoke and death.

*****

Sansa cuddled Alice to her finger brushing her hair out. Alice sniffled against her for several minutes before falling asleep against her. She glanced over making sure Sally was still sleeping before settling back and waiting. She didn’t know how much time passes before they returned but she heard arguing outside. Arya slipped into the barn.

 

“What’s happening?” Sansa asked her sister.

 

“Rogor wants us to leave now. He said we brought the Strangers curse on him.”

 

“The Strangers Curse?” Sansa arched a delicate eyebrow as she shrugged. Rogor burst into the barn startling Arya into bringing her sword up in a defensive position. 

 

“Your husband has a bounty on his head, you need to leave now. All of you.” He glared at her.

 

“It’s the middle of the night.”

 

“You’ve got two men and her.” he said pointing at Arya who smiled, “Take that girl and get out.”

 

“The girl? She won’t survive on the road.”

 

“Alice is cursed, I don’t want her anywhere near me and mine. Sally!” The girl jolted awake and ran to her father. “Get out.”

 

Sandor entered the barn after that a snarl on his face, “Man of God you are, kicking two women and a child out of your home in the middle of the night.”

 

Gendry following behind him just as angry, “Guess guest right don’t mean that much to you either.” He spat at the man’s feet. 

 

“I’ll get the silver I owe you, then I want you gone.” Sandor’s balled his fists at his sides, cracking the bones in his hands, then stretched them out as Gendry pulled his arm back.

 

“Not in front of the girl,” he said to the larger man gesturing to Sally.

 

“Get the silver.” He growled. Rogor shoved his daughter out of the barn and followed suit. “Sansa, pack everything. You two...” he ordered them to ready the horses and pack their things. Sandor was tugging on his now clean armor while Sansa packed their meager belongings and shook out their cloaks as best as she could one-handed, neither of them noticed Rogor’s return.

 

Sansa looked up at her husband who was still grunting in pain when he tried to pull on his chest plate, “Stop.” Sansa shifted a sleeping Alice to one hip and said, blood oozed from a circular wound no his neck, “You’re bleeding. How did this happen?”

 

“Two men attacked us...me. That’s how we found out about the bounty.”

 

“Let me fix that.” She slid her hand to his neck and healed the wound the magic eagerly obeyed her wish, flowing up immediately and into her husband. “Bites are dangerous my love. Too easily they become infected.”  When she moved her hand his wound was gone but the blood remained. 

 

“So you’re a witch too!” Rogor throwing the bag of silver at Sandor’s feet, startling Sansa into jumping from her spot. “You’ll bring more than the Stranger to this house. Leave now.” 

 

Gendry came around the corner, clearly tired and pissed. He rested the flat of the blade against the man’s neck, “Really getting tired of your superstitious shit.” He snarled. “We’ve done nothing but give you want you asked. You’re scared of a little girl.” 

 

Sansa turned to the slight man, “Gendry, please move your sword. Then we will not sully our names by killing our hosts no matter how much they deserve it.” 

 

“And just who the seven do you think you are?” Rogor snarled at them. 

 

After a brief glance between husband and wife, Sansa said loudly; “My name is Sansa Stark the man behind you is Gendry Baratheon.” Rogor’s eyes widened, “I thank you for your hospitality, your actions shall not be forgotten.” 

 

Sandor scooped up the silver and tucked it in his armor, “Call off your pet wolf bitch. He’s not worth the energy.”

 

“Gendry, you heard your lord, he’s not worth it,” Arya called again, grumbling he sheathed his sword then went to help Arya finish packing and help her on to their mare. Alice for all her terror earlier remained asleep in Sansa’s arms, “We’ll be gone momentarily.” She gently passed Alice to Sandor who awkwardly took the small child in his arms letting Sansa pull on her boots and find a small blanket for the girl.

 

Sandor tried to position Alice so she rested against the chainmail and not the plated armor. She sighed against him adjusting herself her tiny hands gripping a leather buckle. Despite the situation Sandor found himself completely taken with the small girl, he knew he’d always wanted children, he never thought he would ever get the chance to have them, but now with Sansa. He looked over at her, she’d promised to give him pups. The Vale was too far away, he would have to convince her that the sooner the better for them to start their family. All too quickly Sansa took the child back, Gendery led Stranger over to him and Sandor gripped her by the waist bring her to rest on the horseback before following her up. Rogor to shove the other door to the barn open, letting Sandor pass by then Arya with Gendry, “Stay warm Rogor. Winter is coming.” Arya said cheekily, “And the North remembers.”


	21. Parting Ways - Part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of two

They rode through the night putting as much distance between them and the Rogar’s farm. Sandor muttering every once and a while about going back to end the arrogant farmer then pestering Sansa about why she was suddenly so tired. Did she eat enough, when was the last time she ate, was she cold, did she have enough space? She knew it was all out of concern and for him it would always come out as a barking order. Finally, she had enough and snapped back, “I’m fine!” 

 

“A dog can smell a lie.” 

 

“I suppose it's a good thing your not a dog then isn't it.” She quipped back much to Arya’s amusement. 

 

Several mornings after they left Sandor was rummaging through their packs for what little food he could find to give to Alice. Instead, he found a doll “The fuck?” He held it up and looked at her inquiringly, his wife took the strangest things from King’s Landing. 

 

“My father gave it to me before .... everything.” He nodded and was about to put it away when he spotted Alice’s sleeping face pressed against his makeshift pillow.

 

“We don’t have anything to eat for her little bird.” He said still holding the doll. 

 

“I found some berries last night.” She said softly, game was getting more and more difficult to find despite the abundant tracks. 

 

He dropped his eyes to the doll again, he hated that he couldn’t provide for the little girl and his wife. More than one occasion, Gendry and himself had come back to the camp empty-handed. “It’s a poor substitute for food but ...?” Sansa gave him a warm smile. “I know your father gave it to you.”

 

‘Yes, you can give it to her.” She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, Sandor briefly closed his eyes letting himself enjoy her softness. “I’ll wake them.” Gesturing to Arya and Gendry, it made her feel silly but she loved seeing her sister snuggling against the Baratheon, loved seeing her sisters softness and sweetness she reserved just for him. 

 

Sandor took the doll in both hands and went the few feet away to the sleeping girl. Sitting down carefully he rubbed her back until she woke up, “Time to go little one.” Alice narrowed her eyes and then shut them again, “Alice.”  Her eyes popped open and she sat up. Awkwardly he handed the doll to her. She took it looking down at the doll then smiled brightly at him, she launched herself at him wrapping her arms around his neck and nuzzled her head under his chin. Sandor felt a wave of relief wash over him as the girl’s small arms wrapped around his neck, he’d been trying to get the girl to warm up to him since they found her and so far she’d resisted. The doll apparently was the key to unlocking her affections, his large hand rubbed up and down her back as she squeezed him. 

 

Sansa sat with Arya on her bedroll watching the sweet scene, he didn’t know she was watching him as he wrapped his thick arms around the girl giving her a hug his lips lifting upward. “He’s not as bad as I thought he was,” Arya whispered against a still snoring Gendry. “Still mean, but with Alice…”

 

“He’ll be like clay in her hands before too long.”

 

“He’s clay in your hands, gods forbid you have a girl.” her sister snorted and Sansa smiled. “Before we leave, I know travel is hard but are you?” She let the question hang in the air between them.

 

“It’s still not here.” 

*****

 

Two weeks later:

 

They made camp in a small clearing off the main road having all their jobs camp was set up quickly. After a dinner of shared rabbit, they settled in for the evening. “How close are we to the Vale?” Arya asked.

 

“Close, a day or so,” Sandor answered watching Alice run around the camp gathering sticks and throwing them in the small fire, giggling every time they made a popping sound not seeing Sandor jump every time a particularly large pop sounded. Alice could actually look at him now, though not for long, even then only when he told her outrageous stories he remembered his sister coming up with when they were children. He absently stroked Sansa’s hair, threading his fingers through the red locks as she slept with her head in his lap. She’d been sleeping more lately, when he’d questioned her about she only shrugged, telling him she wasn’t used to the travel. Gendry was already asleep to snoring loudly behind Arya.

 

“Do you really think my aunt will take us in?”

 

“Aye, you’re her blood, honor and all that horseshit.” He answered.

 

“I’d rather go to Braavos.”

 

“Why Braavos?” He mumbled.

 

“I’ve friends there.”

 

“You have friends everywhere.” he rumbled at her.

 

Alice stopped in front of him and stomped her little foot, “Story!”

 

“Bedtime.” he countered

 

“Storytime!” she crossed her arms and stuck her tongue out at him.

 

“Alice…” She stepped forward and grabbed his face in her tiny hands, trying to mimic what she’d seen Sansa do a million times on their treck up.

 

“Storytime…” getting a very serious look on her strange face, “Da’...storytime.” Sandor stared at the blond girl, had she really just called him  _ Da’ _ ? Sandor felt the shards of ice fall from his thawing heart at this girl’s big black eyes.

 

“Alright Alright. But lay down first.” He gave in, she giggled settling against Sansa who briefly stirred then cuddled the girl to herself. He told her a story about a gnome who could only plant magic flowers and a tiny girl who was the only one that was able to see them. She sat, listening to him rapt on his every word. When the story finally concluded Alice's eyes were heavy and she was slightly rocking back and forth. “Bedtime now.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes,” Sandor said carefully dislodging himself from Sansa and her mass of hair then laid down next to her. “Lay down Alice if you're still awake in a few minutes I’ll tell you another story.” He said on a yawn. She finally did lay down snuggling against Sansa it wasn't long before soft snores filled the space.

 

Arya lay down on her own bedroll and stared up at the stars, she pulled out the coin Jaqen had given her and twirled it around in her fingers. “Valar Morghulis” she whispered to herself. Her thumb traced over the faceless hooded man on the coin as she debated. The reasons she’d given to Jaqen for not going with him were gone, her brothers were dead or in a lifetime of servitude, and her sister was married safely to The Hound. Gendry rolled over his arm coming around her waist.

 

“What are you thinking?” He asked his eyes open now. Arya turned to him, she ran her hands down his scruffy cheek, “Arya?”

 

“We should go to Bravos.”

 

“Bravos?” His blue eyes filled with confusion.

 

“Jaqen once offered to teach me how to become a faceless man.”

 

“You really want to be an assassin?”

 

“I have a list Gendry. Do you want to come with me?”

 

“There is nothing for me there.”

 

“That’s not true,” she said knowing his love for the forge, “There are only three people in the world who know how to work with Valerian steel, two are in Bravos.”

 

“What about your sister?”

 

‘Look at them,” she said knowing how the other couple was sleeping, “Sandor has his arm wrapped around both Sansa and Alice. A perfect fucking family. They don’t need us.” 

 

“No, but you sister and you just reunited.” He argued.

 

“I’m going Gendry.” She kissed him on the lips, pouring her want and need for him into it. She wanted him to come with her.

 

“Fuck, you know I won’t let you go alone.” He whispered. Arya sat up and slid on her boots, if they were close to the Vale they were close to several harbors, one must be bound for Braavos. Carefully they rolled up their shared bedroll and went to the horse taking care to saddle the mare quietly. Every so often Gendry would stop and make sure Sandor and Sansa were sleeping. He boosted Arya on to the saddle when they both froze hearing Sandor's voice, “Arya? Gendry?” She stilled, he never called her by her name, never. “Where are you two going?” She turned the horse and he was right there. She wasn’t sure how he’d heard her or snuck upon them. 

 

“Braavos.” She said quietly pulling the coin from her belt she handed it down to him. Sandor took it and flipped it over, the hood of the faceless man stood in front of the coin. He shuddered nearly dropping the coin. 

 

“Valar Morghulis,” he whispered to her. 

 

“How…” Gendry asked

 

“The She-wolf isn’t the only one they’ve ever tried to recruit.” Arya stared down at him; if Sandor Clegane had become faceless...she shuddered to think about it.

 

“When?”

 

He handed the coin up to her, “I was ten and five, had to stay and protect my sister the best way I knew how. Shit’s gone south since don’t leave without telling your sister.” 

 

“She won’t understand.” 

 

“It wasn’t a request.” Sandor snapped at her, Arya frowned but slid off her horse walking to her sister. 

 

“Sansa?” Arya gently shook her sister's shoulder and for the first time realized how thin she was becoming, reaffirming her decision to leave, food was getting harder to come across now and with Sansa pregnant she needed all the food she could get. She saw the dark circles under her eyes and wondered how much sleep she was really getting, “Sansa?” She shook her harder. 

 

“Is it dawn already?” She asked not opening her eyes. 

 

“No, but I need to talk to you.” Sansa sat up rubbing her eyes, “I’m leaving.”

 

“What! Why!”  Her blue eyes bore into her own, “You can’t just go!” 

 

“I have too. You and Robb were the only things keeping me here. Robb is dead and you...you have a husband. A mean husband.” She smirked, “And Gendry is coming with me.” 

 

“But I won’t have my sister!” She hissed. Arya sighed and pulled out the coin again and handed it to her sister, she took it, looked at it and with knitted brows asked, “Valar Morghulis?” She said poorly. 

 

“I’m going to Braavos. I’m going to be a faceless man.” 

 

“What is that?” 

 

“I have a list, I have to learn how to kill them.” Arya took the coin back from her sister's limp hand, Sansa was the opposite of her. Delicate, soft, pretty and a healer but no less fierce. 

 

Sansa looked at her sister, they’d just been reunited the last of their family through their mother. She knew the look in her sisters face, nothing would sway her from her decision now. She stood up, careful to not disturb Alice and went to Gendry. “You bring her back safe to me Baratheon.” 

 

“I will Your Graces.” He started to give her a bow, she stopped him. 

 

“I’m no more than a beggar queen. And I expect you will be a good-brother sooner rather than later.” She hugged him, whispering in his ear, “Make sure she drinks that damn tea.” When she stepped back Sandor crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Don’t expect a fuckin’ hug from me.” 

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, your Grace,” Gendry smirked.

 

Sandor cringed visibly, “Don’t call me that.” He snapped.

 

“I love you.” Sansa pulled her sister into a tight hug. 

 

“Love you too,” Arya whispered back. “Take back the North. It’s what Robb would want you to do.” 

 

****

It took them a day and a half to get the veil, the weather was not cooperating making Sandor give his girls his heavy cloak. Sansa gave little protest but noticed his palour was starting to change, he tried to hide the start of a cough. When Sansa tried to heal him he shoved her off, telling her he was fine. Sandor always sent her to bed early and despite her best efforts she always fell asleep. 

As they approached the Bloody Gate Sansa felt tired, she was bone-weary and wanted nothing more than to meet her aunt and sleep in a featherbed next to her husband without a kicking toddler between the two of them. “I can’t believe we actually made it.” She groaned next to him, the path was to narrow for them to take Stranger down it. Sansa hefted Alice on her hip as she walked up the dirt path, the girl clutched her doll to her small chest and dozed on Sansa’s shoulder. Sandor pulled on Strangers reigns, the horse was tired and he didn’t want to burden him more by carrying riders.

 

“Your buggering Aunt better have a cool ale,” Sandor grumbled at her.

 

“I’d rather have a bed.” She answered.

 

“Aye ale, food, then bed.” He shot her a heated look, since taking Alice they’d not had a moment alone and she could tell he was getting frustrated.  “The little one gets her own bed.”

 

“Agreed.” She smiled up at him the cold wind lashing her hair nearly out of its braid. 

 

“Who would pass the Bloody Gate?” A voice called from above them.

 

“The bloody Hound and…” He glanced down not sure if he should reveal that they were married yet, “Sansa Stark, niece to your lady Arryn.”

 

“Then I offer my condolences, you are a day too late. Our Lady has died.” Sansa stared at the man in armor, he couldn’t have really just said that. She burst out into hysterical laughter sinking to the ground. Sandor remained standing staring at the speaker silently all his dreams of a hearty meal and a bath gone in a flash. 

 

“Who the fuck is in charge then?”

 

“Good Lord Baelish, her husband.” The speaker called back.

 

“Pfft, Baelish.”

 

“Where will we go now?” Sansa asked him. Nibbling her thumb, her aunt was always fond of Lord Baelish but she didn’t think it went both ways. Especially not after the comments he made about her and her own mother. 

 

“We stay here Little Bird, your too weak to go without another week without food and the little one...” He raised his voice, “Summon your Lord. Tell him his niece is here, seeking shelter.” The speaker turned to a runner and gave the order then beckoned them forward. “You are lucky his lordship was about to leave with his good-son.”

 

They did not have to wait long as a carriage rolled down the other side of the gate. Lord Baelish clambered out of it stepping down and walking toward them. “I still don’t like him,” Sandor growled.

 

“No one likes him.” Sansa agreed.

 

“Lady Sansa!” He said when he reached them he gave her a bow, “How good it is to see you. I feared the worst when you and The Hound disappeared from the capitol.” Sansa suppressed a shudder as he drew near her. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it, “After our last meeting I was afraid you see me as an enemy, not a friend.”

 

“My Lord Baelish.” She curtsied, “I am sorry I was not able to give you notice, my departure was rather urgent. I wasn’t sure which side you played on.” She felt strange talking in such a formal manner being so dirty and out of court. 

 

“Normally a point of pride for me,” He smiled, “Do not worry about that. Sometimes the best moves are those of utter surprise. Much like your genius stroke with sending me off to Renly.” Sansa inclined her head at the compliment finding it easy to slip back into the courtly role. “We can only assume you had a good reason to run.” Sansa stiffened at the mention of that night, “Thank you Hound for seeing her back to her proper caretaker, I’ll see that you’re paid.” He reached for Sansa’s arm which she deftly sidestepped.

 

“My Lord I ask that you let myself and Sandor stay in the Vale until we can remove the Boltons from Winterfell.”

 

“You are always welcome My Lady, The Hound, however, is wanted back by the King. You both are. For certain reasons.” if she went back there she would be executed. 

 

“I’ll not go back there.” Sansa whispered, “You know that.”

 

“Of course not, of course not,” Baelish said in his strange voice. “I could not allow you to be killed.” He said as if reading her mind.

 

“Will you let us stay or no.” Sandor bit out, “She’s your niece by law now.”

 

“As I said she may stay but you may not.” Sandor looked around him, arrows were still knocked and ready to be shot, “Understand Dog, Sansa is my responsibility now, as her only living kin.”

 

“You’re not my only living kin,” Sansa said softly.

 

“My dear, a bastard half brother on the wall doesn’t count.”

 

“I do,” Sandor growled at him.

 

“You?”

 

“Sandor and I are married,” Sansa said softly. 

 

“Husband?” Lord Baelish looked from Sansa to Sandor then said, “I see, you ran away with him on purpose he didn’t take you did he?”

 

“For the most well-informed man I know you seem slow on the uptake.” Sandor snorted.

 

“Please Petyr, let us stay. Alice hasn’t had a proper dinner in nearly a week. We are tired and hungry and I just want to go home.”

 

“Your home was supposed to be with  _ me _ .” venom dripped with each word,  “I could have taken you there anytime you wanted Sansa. Instead, you chose to give your favors willingly to this  _ Dog _ . I see you are getting a habit of picking up broken things.” He gestured to Alice in her arms. “I’ll forgive you for leaving me if you come with me now, leave your broken things behind and climb the ladder with me. I’m going back to King’s Landing. We can get your marriage annulled, and I’ll keep this secret from the King. I’ll keep you in the Vale until we can go back North.”

 

“I should cut you down here.” Sandor growled at the smaller man, “Hide behind your archers all you like littlefucker, you’ll not take my wife from me.”

 

“No!” She stepped back and closer to Sandor, “I won’t go anywhere without my husband.” Sandor placed himself between Baelish and his wife.

 

“Is that so?” Baelish gave him an innocent smile, “I fear you misunderstand. I will be taking Sansa back to her rightful keeper and you...your ugly head will adorn a spike.”

 

“I will kill you if you touch my wife.” Sandor snarled. 

 

“You’ll be dead before you hit the ground Dog. Leave her here with me and for the great love I bore her mother I’ll let you go.”

 

“You can’t order them to kill us Baelish,” Sansa spat, “They protect the Vale and we are no threat to the Vale.” She raised her voice, “We came seeking help from my aunt, you would deny my lord husband and protector out of jealousy?”

 

“Your aunt is dead, come with me now I’ll introduce you to Sweet Robin.” He tried to calm her, pacify her has he’d often done in the capitol.

 

“You would keep me just as much a prisoner without Sandor.” The guards started to lower their bows around her. Baelish narrowed his eyes at her; when had she learned to play this game so well? And why did he consistently underestimate her? She was smarter than she let on, she returned his glare, “Chaos isn’t a pit, it’s a ladder Lord Baelish, isn't it?” She said to him using his own words he’d taught her many years ago, “Goodbye Lord Baelish.” She turned down the path sure that no one would dare hurt her.

 

“I’ll tell Joffrey I’ve seen you. They’re already hunting you you know. No one will be as accommodating as myself.” She stopped in her path, a wide smile played out over Baelish’s lips. “I’ll tell him you refused my help for that of a Dog.” Sansa looked over her shoulder.

 

“Tell him. Tell him this too,” She turned to face him fully the wind blowing at her back and lifting tendrils of her hair, “ _ Winter is coming _ , it will come for him first. The wolves are back in the North. Tell him the Queen of the North wants his head on a spike.”

 

“Come wife.” Sandor wrapped his arm around her shoulder and guided her down the path they’d just walked up. “What is your plan now that you’ve openly threatened the King in front over everyone.”

 

“The Starks were kings once, it’s time to restore our kingdom.” She should be feeling shaky- threatening one of the most powerful men in the land. Instead, she felt a cold calm soothing her anger. Baelish would bow to her if it was the last thing she did. 


	22. Parting Ways - Part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two

Hours later:

 

Sansa climbed up the hill behind Sandor, he turned and extended his hand, she took it still not used to the chills that swept over her whenever they touched. Alice had climbed up the last few rocks on her own. “You should have let me kill him. He’ll come back to haunt us.”

 

“He will. But for now, he’s still bound to Joffrey and cannot do anything without arousing suspicion, especially since he knew about us, in the Godswood. If he tells he’ll land himself in the dungeons.”

 

“What? Why didn’t you tell me about the Godswood?” He snapped at her.

 

“Because you would want to kill him.” she reasoned.

 

“I would have killed him sooner,” He said thrusting Strangers reins at her.

 

“You’d be dead, then where would I get my kisses?” She smirked up at him, knowing it would make him uncomfortable enough to let the subject drop.

 

“Take your break girls.” He said gruffly, she sat down on a plain rock and pulled off her boots and rubbed her feet, they’d grown calloused and ugly to her but she’d take ugly feet over and Joffrey any day. She watched Alice to make sure that she didn’t fall but otherwise let her run, she brought small rocks to her which Sansa thanked her for. Sandor had gone around a large stone to relieve himself before they started their treck again.

 

Sansa heard the chink of armor and slipped her boots back on, “People coming.” she hissed at him from the other side of the rock. “Alice.” She grabbed the girl and pulled her up and into her arms. A tall woman clad in black armor came up the hill, a sword at her hip and a boy following her. “You can finish later, there are people coming!”

 

The woman called out to her, “Morning.” a faint smile on her face, she was close enough for Sansa to see the freckles on her face, chipped teeth, and her large blue eyes.

 

Sansa smoothed down her plain brown dress out of habit, “Morning.”

 

“Are you two alone?”

 

“No.” She said automatically, it was always safest if there was a man with you in this world. 

 

“Are we getting close to the Bloody Gate?”

 

“About ten more miles,” Sansa answered quietly. 

 

“Did you hear that Podrick,” She called to the boy behind her, “Only ten more miles to the bloody gate.”

 

Sansa looked at her sword, “Are you a knight?” She decided to try to evaluate the women's mental status, women couldn’t be knights. 

 

“No.” She shook her head.

 

“By you know how to use that sword, right?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Does it have a name?” She asked seeing the gold handle.

 

“Oathkeeper.”

 

“Good name for a sword. Who taught you how to fight?” Sansa smiled despite herself. 

 

“My father.”

 

“My father would never let me hold a sword. He always said fighting is for boys.” The woman and Arya had similar traits. Though Sansa knew her sister could never be a knight with her own code of morality. 

 

“Mine said the same, but I kept fighting the boys anyway, kept losing. Finally he said _ if you're going to do it you might as well do it right _ .” Sansa smirked. Sandor came from around the rock buckling his sword belt, coming to stand in front of her. She nodded her head to him and called, “Seven blessings. I’m Brienne of Tarth, this is Podrick Payne.”

 

“You want something?” He rasped at the newcomers.

 

Podrick whispered, “That’s Sandor Clegane, The Hound.”

 

Sansa picked up Alice and put her on her hip then moved closer to him, Brienne followed her with her eyes, “You’re Sansa Stark.”

 

Sandor gripped his sword and sheath readying himself to pull it, “I asked if you wanted something.”

 

“I swore to your mother I would bring you home to her.” Brienne addressed Sansa directly. 

 

“My Mother’s dead,” Sansa answered stonily. 

 

“I know,” She stepped closer to Sansa, “I wish I could have been there to protect her.”

 

Sansa took a step closer to Sandor, the only man other than her father who’d protected her, “You’re not a Northerner.”

 

“No, but I swore a sacred vow to protect her.”

 

“Why didn’t you?” Sansa snapped.

 

“She commanded me to bring Jaime Lannister back to King’s Landing.”

 

“You were paid by the Lannisters,” Sandor growled out. “You’re here for the bounty on me, to take her back to the King.”

 

“I’m not paid by the Lannisters.” Brienne scoffed.

 

“No?” He moved closer to her, leaving Sansa’s side, “Fancy sword you got there. Where’d ya get it?” He looked at the sword, “I’ve been looking at Lannister gold all my life. Go on Brienne of fucking Tarth, tell me that’s not Lannister gold.”

 

Her hands gripped the sword, “Jamie Lannister gave me this sword.” Sandor turned to her as if asking her something.

 

Sansa hugged Alice tighter to her if this woman was affiliated with the Lannister’s she would have nothing to do with her “The Bloody Gate is ten miles from here.”

 

“I swear to your mother by the Old Gods…”

 

“I don’t care I don‘t care what you swore!” Sansa snapped, that cool cold coming over here again. She ignored Alice’s quivering cries. 

 

“Sansa!”

 

“You heard the girl!” Sandor cut in, “She’s not coming with you.”

 

“She is!” Brienne drew her sword.

 

“You’re not a good listener.” His eyes flicked down, “Valyrian Steel...I always wanted some Valyrian steel.”

 

“Come with me Sansa, I’ll take you to safety.”

 

“Safety! Where the fuck’s that? Her mother is dead, her father’s dead, her brother’s dead, Winterfell is a pile of rubble. There is no safety you dumb bitch.” He snarled. “You don’t know that by now you’re the wrong one to watch over her.”

 

Brienne smiled, showing crooked teeth, “And that’s what you're doing?  _ Watching  _ over her?”

 

“Aye...that’s what I’m doing.” Brienne drew her sword Sandor matching her. “You’ll not take her from me.” He snarled. 

 

“Stop! Please stop!” She screamed but it was too late, they were already locked in battle. Brienne swung her sword only to be blocked by Sandor the ring of metal lingering in the small clearing. The woman was nearly as tall as her husband, though not nearly as skilled. He parried and defended against her attacks, “STOP!” She shouted again, they ignored her. The two titans embroiled in a battle for her and little Alice, their fight took them over the ledge of the hill and out of Sansa’s sight. 

 

Sandor brought up his sword up again and blocked the onslaught that was Brienne of Fucking Tarth. The ringing of metal against metal forced his muscles to move in ways that they had not in many months. Still, his body moved as if the matter of swordplay never left his day to day life. The woman thrust, Sandor blocked and kicked out at her breastplate. Brienne was sent flying backward landing hard on the mossy green plain. 

 

“She’s mine.” He snarled at the woman racing over to her to end the battle. 

 

Brienne blocked her arm muscles straining against this man's muscles. “They say you kidnapped her and raped her Clegane. The girl will come with me.” 

 

Snarling Sandor reared his fist, Brienne suddenly locked her legs around his and rolled him to his back and sank her teeth into his ear. He roared in pain and anger shoving her off of him, she too his ear with her. “Fucking bitch.” He spat. 

 

With Alice clinging to her Sansa raced after them picking her way through the rocks, she stopped when she saw Brienne punching Sandor in the face screaming out an eternities worth of rage. She punched him one final time and he fell back, over the cliff. “ **NO** !” Sansa screamed Alice put her hands over her ears as she screamed. Sansa’s world fell over the cliff with her husband, her heart fell and shattered into a million pieces at her feet. “No!” She screamed, again and again, ignoring Brienne falling to her knees out of breath blood trickling down her face. Sansa’s feet moved on their own accord down the steep cliff she needed to find him.

 

“Sansa!” Brienne called as she ran around and down the cliffside trying to find Sandor. She found him pulling himself up and into the shade. He was alive! Sansa ran to him kneeling at his side Alice squirming to get to him.

 

“Little Bird?” He coughed and blood spat up and out of his mouth, but still let Alice crawl on top of him. “Big Bitch saved you.” He said cynically, but his silver eyes held the truth she knew he needed. 

 

“I don’t need saving.” She whispered next to him assessing his wounds. She needed to heal him. 

 

He snorted, “ ‘Course you did. You never wanted to be with me, only to get away from Joffrey. You never loved me only letting me fuck you to keep you safe. Go Little Bird fly away.”

 

She pressed her forehead to his, “Shut up you great oaf. I love you, I love you and you can’t leave me.” She whispered to him. 

 

She heard her name from Brienne and ignored her. She needed to focus now, on her husband and only her husband. “Sansa!” Brienne had spotted her, she ran up panting and still covered in blood, “Sansa come with me.” She grabbed her arm and Sansa ripped it back.

 

“Leave!” She shouted her focus broken, “Leave!” Sansa reached out to Sandor seeing his bone sticking out from his leg and his wrist broken. Hot tears falling down her face; she had never seen anyone so hurt and still alive, “You can’t die, you can’t die. I’ll fix it, I can fix this!” She ground out hoving over him. 

 

“I think this one is beyond even your abilities little bird.” He tried to move.

 

“Don’t...stop! Don’t move, It will only hurt more.” She took his good hand in hers, closed her eyes and willed him to heal. 

 

Nothing happened. 

 

“No!” She whispered. 

 

“Lady Sansa, you must come with me.” Brienne reached for her again.

 

“I told you to leave!” She reached for her water skin.

 

“Fuck water.” He groaned through the pain. “Killed by a woman, I bet your sister would like that. Go on, go with her, she’ll protect you.”

 

“No…” She squeezed his hand, “No I don’t want to; I want to stay with you.”

 

“She’ll help you.” He groaned again and Sansa shook her head. “You can’t go it alone. You won’t last a day out there.”

 

“I won’t leave you!” She said through clenched teeth. “I can fix it, I can fix this you idiot you know I can.”

 

“No Sansa, give me a clean death. I know you didn’t really want to marry me,” He coughed up more blood, “You were the only one sweet enough to give me that fucking song without my paying for it.”

 

“Stop it! Stop being so stupid! You are mine and I am yours, I can’t do this without you. I’m nothing without you.” Alice started crying on top of him.

 

 A bloodied hand came up to caress her cheek, his grey eyes sharp and alert, “You’re  **everything** little bird. You’ll never not be nothing. You’re fucking Queen of the North.” 

 

“You promised…. Sandor, you promised you would never leave me.” She said through tears. 

 

He turned his grey gaze onto Brienne, “Fuck it I’m ready. Kill me.” Brienne drew her sword, happy to oblige his wishes. Sansa snatched the dagger on his belt leveling it at the giant woman.

 

“Kill him and I will cut your throat in your sleep!” She snarled. Brienne let go of her sword and took a step back. “This is your fault!” She shrieked at the woman, “You and your stupid vow! You took him from me! You took the only person who’s ever protected me away! I never want to see you again!”

 

“Sansa!” She turned back to him, “I’ve done to many ugly things. I cut down that butcher’s boy! He was begging for mercy.” Sansa knew he was trying to make himself as ugly as possible to her. But she knew him now, knew that he wasn’t as hard of a man as he put off. Knew he just wanted someone to hold. “Killed people in front of you, killed your man. I killed him and I liked it.” 

 

“Stop it, Sandor.”

 

“Please ser, please don’t kill me! Slung him over my horse. The saddle smelled like butcher’s boy for weeks.”

 

“Stop it.” She cried bending her body nearly in half, “Stop it.”

 

“And you...I failed you, every fucking time. I let them beat you, I  _ let  _ them, Sansa.”

 

“You cannot …. You can’t! Please.” She couldn't drag enough air in before the next sob took over her chest. 

 

“Do it!” He rasped, “Do it! Do it.” She realized he was sobbing.

 

“Sandor you can’t ask me to watch you die. You can’t! I have seen you break a man’s back on your knee. I’ve seen you kill four men in under a minute, you can’t die!  _ You can’t leave me _ !”  

 

“Sansa.” Brienne reached for her again and Sansa struck out, sinking the dagger into the woman’s thigh, the woman screamed as Sansa ripped the dagger from her thigh.

 

“Leave!” Brienne stared at her in shock. “Leave! Before I stab you again!”

 

“Kill me!”

 

“No!” She screamed back. She pressed her forehead to his, “You will live through this. You have too.”

 

“No little bird, I’m done.” He wrenched his hand away from hers and grabbed the back of her head pressing hard, wanting her close for his last few minutes. She felt her tears falling down on to his face, “Go with her.”

“You can’t Sandor. What will I tell our son?” His hand slipped away and Sansa watched his eyes close. Sansa screamed her agony, she felt his body go limp, everything was wrong.  **“No no no no no no no no no** !” She repeated over and over again. Her hands went to his pulse point on his neck and she felt one there, faint but there. Again she willed the magic forward. 

 

“He’s dead Lady Sansa, come with me. Let’s go to safety.”

 

She shrieked, “You killed my husband!” Alice let out a wail from behind her. “You need to leave now.”

 

“I swore an oath!”

 

“You failed in protecting my mother and now you’ve killed the only man I have ever loved and the father of my child. What do you think you can possibly say to me?! **GO NOW** .”

 

“Are you refusing my help?”

 

“ **GET. AWAY. FROM. ME.** ” She snarled then spun around and dropped back down to Sandor’s side. He was still breathing. She placed her hands around his leg wound and demanded the skin and bone knit itself together. She felt the small slow buzzing start and pushed it further, she felt the bone’s shift under her hands and start to slide back into place when she was suddenly yanked back. Sansa fought with her attacker, managing to twist around and slam her fist into Brienne’s nose. The older bigger woman stumbled back as Sansa nearly collapsed to her knees from the exertion of healing Sandor and fighting with Brienne.

 

The older woman stared at her in obvious confusion. “Lady Sansa let me ...”

 

“Leave me now!” She raged at her, “Leave me, leave Alice and leave Sandor. Just go!” Brienne sheathed her sword.

 

“You’ll die out here alone and your babe.” Sansa kneeled and picked up Sandor's sword. It was far too heavy for her as she gripped the worn leather with both hands. 

 

“Get the  _ fuck  _ away from my family.” She hissed. 

 

“Do you even know how to use that?” Brienne asked. Sansa lunged and pierced Brienne’s armor, stopping just short of the woman's stomach. Sapphire blue eyes met Tully ice, Brienne pulled her hands up in surrender. 

 

“Traitor,” Sansa whispered to the blonde woman ripping back the sword. 

 

****

Sansa sat next to Sandor, he was still breathing but she couldn’t pull enough magic to heal him. She was too weak so she was forced to watch him die a slow agonizing death, lacking the mental fortitude to slit his throat and give him his clean death. Any food she found she gave to Alice, needing to keep the girl alive and well. 

 

“What do we have here?” A male voice sounded behind her. She spun around seeing two men with the mockingbird sigil painted on their breastplate. “Looks like that lass at the gate this morning.”

 

“What’s the matter, love? Lose your guard dog.” Sansa narrowed her eyes and stood up with the dagger at her side the sword a mere foot away.

 

“What do you want?” she said in a raw but regal voice. 

 

“Our Lord Baelish put out a reward for you, looks like we’ll be collecting.” Sansa’s chest heaved up and down. 

 

“Leave me and I won’t kill you.” the men turned to each other and laughed.

 

“What’s a lady like you gonna do against two trained warriors?” They rushed her, Sansa struck out against the first man, Sandor’s dagger sinking into his neck, a lucky shot she was sure. He sank to his knees his hands on the dagger. “Saved me the trouble.” The other said before striking the back of her head before she could snap up the sword. Sansa’s world fell dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one is done, I am currently working on Part Two and hope to have it up soon in the next few weeks. Please bear with me I have classes and a move coming up. But I will try to do one chapter weekly at least.


	23. Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's trials begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the last cliff hanger... no, I'm not hehehe

He’d called back his carriage to the castle, sitting on the twisted wooden throne. He ignored the servants milling around him all sulking or hiding. The Eyrie was not as fascinating as the capitol but he’d never had so much power. Then there was another issue to contend with...Sweet Robin faked another fit of lost breath stalling their departure once again, he knew that the boy did not want to leave the vale but Bealish needed him out of the Eyrie to conduct his business safely. He stared blankly out of the open moon door and wondered what in the hell Sandor Clegane had done to possess such beauty as Sansa Stark. What had he done to gather her loyalties? It had been common knowledge to everyone in the Red Keep that Sansa was the object of the Hounds lust and had been for many years but that was no different than himself. He’d watched her grow from sweet innocent child to avid player in the Game, sometimes thwarting his own plans with her own. If Gregor had done his damn job then Sansa would be his, in his bed, wrapping her long legs wrapped around his waist. Just like Cat’s should have been those years ago. 

 

“My Lord.” a soldier called.

 

“Yes?” he sighed irritated to be pulled from his musings.

 

“There is a man at the door wanting to claim the bounty you put out earlier.”  

 

That was entirely too fast, he was sure the man would be lying as all men were when a bounty was put out as large as he had, “Send him in.” The door opened and a mailed man, one of his own from the vale it seemed by the painted crest was carrying a red-haired girl in his arms. 

 

“My Lord. I have found your prize.” He smiled showing missing teeth. 

 

“We shall see.” he stood up and descend the curving stairs. “Why are you carrying her?” 

 

“She did not want to come willingly.” He answered. Petyr came close enough to the man to see it was indeed Sansa Stark. Her hands were bloody as well as her ugly brown dress, “Her man, The Hound is dead. Took a fall off the cliffs.” He didn’t say anything to that only nodded to his steward who took the girl from the knight. 

 

“What is your name?” 

 

“Lannis, Ser.” 

 

“Thank you Lannis, how lucky of me to have a knight in the service of my house to find her so quickly.” He gestured for the man to follow him to the middle of the room, “Forgive me but I am so buried in my work these days I forgot what the number was that we agreed upon.”

 

“Five Thousand gold dragons.” The knight beamed happily.

 

“Oh yes, five thousand.” Petyr shoved the man through the moondoor as easily as he had done his wife just days ago. He snapped his fingers as the screaming man fell through knowing his loyal, mute, steward would follow his orders. “Take the Lady Sansa to a made-up room. Have someone bathe her and bring her some cold meats for when she wakes.” He turned to do his master's bidding, “Wait!” Bealish looked over Sansa and saw her necklace. The three dogs biting the yellow gemstone nestled at her throat. He took the necklace from her. “Now take her.” He spun and pointed to the nearest knight he paid handsomely, “You, take me to Clegane’s body.” 

 

The ride was only about ten miles from the Vale, when he arrived he saw the small girl there trying to shake Clegane awake. The sky had turned a moody gray and Baelish had no wish to be outside any longer than he needed to be. The girl that Sansa had been clutching ran up to him. “Where mama! Where mama!” She demanded. 

 

“Get off me you little rat!” he snapped at the girl and shoved her down to the ground. The girl fell to the ground and smacked her head against the rocks. She lay there still as his soldiers moved to check on the small girl, he barked an order for them to stop. “Let the thing die, she’s not normal.” Kneeling down next to the brute of the man that was Sandor Clegane he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped some blood from his obviously broken leg before wiping it on Sansa’s necklace. Placing it carefully in The Hounds hands Belish stood up. “Cover him with rocks in the next day, we don't want him waking up.” 

 

“But he’s dead milord.”

 

“He will be in a few hours.” 

 

***

 

Sansa woke with her belly in her throat, she bolted upright her hand to her mouth. “Here my lady.” a female voice sounded from somewhere in the dim room.  A chamber pot was brought to her, she retched the meager meal she’d had. A cool cloth was pressed to her forehead as she finished. 

 

“Poor girl. To thin for your own good and to be sick like this.”  Sansa blinked up to see an older woman blind in one eye and her once dark brown hair now going silver with age. “Don’t you worry now. Lord Baelish will take care of you.”

 

“Lord Baelish?” She grabbed the woman's frail arm, “Where is my husband? Where is Sandor Clegane? And the girl a small girl?” 

 

“Dead.” Baelish's strange husky voice filtered into the room, “Seems he took a tumble off a cliff and didn’t make it.” shock took her system over, “There was a burial mound where he fell. I am so sorry my Lady. I didn’t know the girl was starving.” He knelt beside her, “I shouldn’t have turned you away, you were right, it was out of jealousy. I wanted what I could not have.” He reached for her and Sansa blocked his hand sending it wide.

 

“Do not touch me.” She snapped. Petyr held up hands open and out. Sansa’s heart plummeted, why had her gift failed her? She hugged herself refusing to believe it. No, he couldn’t be dead! Baelish was a known liar and he had betrayed her family before yet the evidence lay around her, nothing of his was here, he would never let her go willingly despite what he asked her to do. He was gone. Gone before she could tell him she was pregnant, gone before she could see his reaction, gone before they could name their child. She put her face in her hands and screamed hot angry tears spilling from her eyes, it wasn’t fair. Her gift shouldn’t have failed. There was no reason for it too. She reached up to her necklace, it was missing. “Where is my necklace!”  

 

“What necklace? You had no necklace when my men found you.” he gave her a sympathetic look, “I am sorry my lady. You must believe me.” Baelish asked. 

 

“Believe you! Why would I do that?” She shrieked. “Take me to his grave! I need to see it!” She addressed the old woman next, “My necklace, please mistress have you seen it?” She felt naked and vulnerable without the heavy jewelry about her neck. Her fingers traced the naked flesh willing the piece to reappear. 

 

“My Lady you don’t want to see that. You’ve been asleep for many days. Because I am keeping your presence here a secret. Only your maid, Miss Mary knows you are here.” Baelish brought her back to the present. Her husband and Alice were gone… with her necklace. 

 

“Why?” She cried her fingers curling around the rim of the chamber pot. “Why would you help me now? Why when it no longer matters!” 

 

“Because you are right and it always matters. Winter is coming, and it’s past time I pick a side. I have always loved your mother Sansa, in another world where love always wins I could have been your father and you would still have your Hound. But we don’t live in that world, so we must make our own.” This time when he reached for her Sansa allowed him to brush her cheek. “I will do everything in my power to get you back in the North.” 

 

“Take me to my husband's grave lord Baelish.” she snarled at the man. 

 

****

 

Sansa climbed the last few steps after Lord Baelish up the hill. She took the hand of an unnamed armed escort as she stepped up the last of the green hill, her eyes flew to where Sandor had crawled pulling himself out of the sun. She stopped breathing, Lord Baelish had been telling the truth. Numbly she made her way to the stones and extended a shaking hand touching one, Sansa sank to her knees her breath still caught in her throat. She didn’t feel the fur around her shoulders or the cold biting wind that whipped her hair back and forth. He was here, she could feel him through the stones and through the ground. Her husband promised to never leave her alone but her he lay as cold as the snow in the north. 

 

Lord Baelish looked on as silently the young woman knelt next to the mound of stones her hands trailing over the largest of them; he flinched as she let out a sound of a mortally wounded animal, agony and hate. She pressed her forehead to the stone she was gripping. Sansa's body shook with the agony that surely rocked her soul, carefully Lord Baelish made his way over to her and kneeled next to her. “I am truly sorry Lady Sansa.” 

 

“I want to see him!” She shrieked and started to move the stones. “I need to see him.” Small pebbles fell into her lap as she chipped her nails and scraped her hands digging. She needed to see his face one last time, needed to touch him again, needed to tell him she was pregnant, even if it was just his corpse. She needed to see his missing tooth and his lazy smile. She needed to feel his calloused hands one last time … Lord Baelish snatched her hands. 

 

“You do not want to see that My Lady. Best to remember him as he was sweetling. Alive and strong.” Her hands were clutched around a small stone fitting perfectly in her palm. “We will stay here as long as you need, and you may come here as often as you need, but for your health, I ask you do not pull any more stones from the pile.”

 

“Why him? Why didn’t she listen?” She cried into Lord Baelish's arms, “Why didn’t she just listen to him?” Lord Baelish wrapped his arm around her and stroked her hair with the other, whispering to her that he would take care of her. He apologized again and again to her for not taking them in, blaming himself for her loss. Sansa cried herself to sleep against her husband’s grave.

 

******

Sandor woke to a thatched roof above his head a soft pillow under his head. His body ached as it never had before; even after his first battle. His fingers were bound together, his leg was stiff and his chest was on fire. He took a deep breath shuddering as the pain of what he knew was broken ribs constricted around him. “Little Bird.” He called out. No soft hands or sweet voice greeted him. Sandor forced himself into an upright position ignoring the agony that racked his body he flipped the heavy blanket back and to see on leg strapped to a thick wooden stick the bone that was pushing out of his leg had been pushed back in and the hole sewn up. He looked around the room to see a sparse space filled with his cot and his saddlebags in a corner, why didn’t she take the buggering horse. Stranger liked her well enough, at least he’d stopped nipping at her. 

 

The door to the hut opened quietly and an older man entered with a small blond girl dancing at his feet. “Then Da’ was like.  _ Bsshhh _ .” She made a motion like she was blocking an attack and holding a sword. “Then then then he hitted her in the face like this!” She snarled up her face and reared her fist.

 

“Don’t go hitting me, Alice.” The man’s old voice rang clearly. 

 

“Alice?” Sandor rasped. The girl spun her yellow hair making a sort of halo around her head as she did. 

 

“Da!” She raced over to him crashing into him as she did new pain sprang from his body he grimaced through it. Sandor wrapped his good arm around her once again ignoring the pain in his body as he held the small girl close to him. Why would Sansa leave the girl with him? Had she gone back to Lord Baelish?  

 

“Glad to see your awake.” The older man said sitting heavily on the dirt floor, “Wasn’t sure you’d make it.” 

 

“Who are you?” Sandor grimaced rubbing Alice’s small back. 

 

“Brother Ray.” He said, “Been taken care of you since I found you about a month ago.” 

 

“A month?” 

 

“Da’ da’ da’,” Alice held up her doll, “Lucy maded me a dress and …” the girl rambled on about how it matched her new dress. Sandor looked at the girl, she’d put on weight and was talking like she’d never spoken in her life. 

 

“Did you find another with me? A woman with red hair?” 

 

“I’m sorry my friend,” He shifted to check the stitching on his leg. “I only found another dead soldier, a dagger sticking out of his neck.” Sandor knitted his brows together trying to remember that fight but only remembered the big bitch, Brienne of Tarth. “Alice let me check your father’s ribs.” The girl dutifully scooted over to let the man check him. 

 

“Alice,” he grunted in pain, “Where’s ma’?”  the girl flopped down looked up at him with big eyes, her mouth turned down. “Alice.” He half growled.

 

“Bad men hitted her… then bad man hitted me. I don’t ‘member” She moved her hand to the back of her head, “I felled.” She rubbed her head where she had woken up to another man above her.  

 

“She was right bloody when we found her. Someone had shoved her to the rocks. Surprised she's alive that one.” The brother nodded to Alice. “We did not find a woman, but we did find this.” He pulled a white cloth from his robes and handed them to Sandor. As Sandor took it he felt the clink of metal against the stone and knew instinctively that it was her necklace. Why would she give it back to him? She said she loved him! He unwrapped the necklace. “We found it in your hand.” The reddish stands stood out against the gold of the necklace. “Bears around these parts have taken small children. An unconscious woman is easier prey or worse bandits. She could have left it there to stop the bandits from taking it. I’m sorry but likely she is gone from this living world.” Brother Ray said Sandor glared at the man. His wife couldn’t be dead. Sandor refused to picture his little bird anything but the vivacious woman that she was. Not his Sansa, she had survived to much to die by some random fucker. Maybe that big bitch had hit her too hard. Despair crashed down on him like a tidal wave in a storm surge. He clutched his little girl closer to him and tried to stop the tears, “I’ll leave you two, bring you some stew later on.” Brother Ray said. Sandor didn’t hear him, he buried his face in Alice’s tiny shoulders and wept. The last thing he told her was to fuck off, told her all those nasty things. Now she died protecting his would-be corpse and Alice, she was more warrior than he could ever be. He fingered the yellow strip of cloth around his wrist now splattered with blood and mud. Her soft braided hair still resting against his pulse. Her tidy stitching still plainly visible, he brought it to his lips kissing it.

 

****

Six Months Later: 

Sansa

 

She lay on her side rubbing the swollen mass of her stomach while the maester fiddled about with a vial of her blood. “I don’t like the look of it, my lady. And your bleeding too, I spoke to Mrs. Irtion, the midwife and she said to me that a miscarriage is imminent.” 

 

“No,” She said still rubbing, “I can feel them moving, they are both very excitable,” he added a dose of her blood to a simmering bubbling chemical. When it didn’t react he only made a thoughtful sound. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” 

 

“Both I am afraid.” The old man stooped slightly like Maester Pycelle had she understood it to be the weight of the chains. But unlike the surgery in the capitol, this room was dusty and covered in books and pages. A thick carpet padded the stone floor that had once been a vibrant red, now it gave a dull rust color. Still, it was where Sansa felt most comfortable. She’d poured through the old books at the beginning of her stay here when she could still hide her condition but when her bump started to show it became more of a refuge than anything. 

 

Lord Baelish was furious though hid it well, more than once he had tried to lure her to his bed, but since the bump, all advances stopped and he began to avoid her. Not that it mattered, Sansa and he had played the game well in the capital and they were doing so now on a much smaller scale. Like before she swayed the kitchen staff and so far about half the commanding officers. “Maester?” 

 

“Well, you see… nothing happened.” She gave him a quizzical look, “ If you were ill this would turn a bright pink and if you were poisoned it would turn purple.” He tapped the silver bowl. “I recommend you eating raw meat.”

 

“Raw!”

“With no seasoning.” 

 

“Maester!” she felt her gut roll like she was on a boat. Sandor would just laugh at her reaction, she could almost hear his raspy laughter.  

 

“Just for a few days and rest in bed. The most strenuous thing you can do now is sewing.” She sighed but figured that would be the answer when she herself started to feel sick three days ago. She’d not been able to keep any food down and only managed the walk to the maesters rooms with assistance. Sansa leaned on the edge of the desk, “My Lady you are nearing your 8th moon, I really want to see you in bed.”

 

“Yes...I’m just bracing myself for the walk back.” She made it through the sunlit halls where guards were posted every so often,  _ Baelish _ , she and Ser Rodrick hed their men pick up their information in the guard room. Rubbing her temples, she decided she was too tired to think about the strategies of Lord Baelish. The castle was cold and quiet holding none of the warmth that Winterfell had for her as a child. She should have insisted they go to Clegane Keep. She wondered now what his childhood home looked like, wondered what the training yard looked like and what halls Eleanor would haunt. 

 

Sansa entered her room where her maid was stoking the fire to a blaze and her embroidery lay across her bed, a slight figure brushing his fingers against it. “My Lord?” Sansa asked holding onto the door latch. She was so tired, her belly ached, and her back was in agony. 

 

“Sansa…” He turned and faced her, his voice low and husky. “I have a confession.” 

 

“I’m sure you do my lord.” She moved as gracefully as she could to the chair near the fire, “Please leave miss.” She addressed the unknown maid.  The small girl scurried from the room, she relaxed into her cushioned chair when the door was shut Sansa continued, “What do you wish to confess?”

 

He sat down lightly on her bed, a very tired look coming across his face and for once Sansa saw the real Peter Baelish, in an instant, it was gone. His facade of the man always in control was back in an instant, “I have more of a proposal.”

 

“From confession to proposal, which is it?”

 

“Both.” She waved her hand, “You and I both know you cannot go back into the North without the Boltons support.” Sansa gritted her teeth as she stood abruptly her black skirt swirling around her legs. “You need Bolton support, Sansa.”

 

“I need the Boltons dead.” She snapped, they were traitors to her crown, to Robb and to the North.

 

“Alas, you cannot kill every Bolton yourself, my lady.” 

 

“Give me a dagger and I will happily end Roose myself.” The facade slipped slightly again.

 

“You really did stab Joffrey… I didn’t believe it.”

 

Sansa resumed her seat, “It was Sandor’s dagger, he gave it to me just before the battle of the black water.” Sansa turned her face to the fire and watched the flames dance across the dried logs, they seemed to almost make shapes, almost tell a story, something she could not grasp. “We both thought he would die in the battle and I would be left to Joffrey and Gregor. Sandor would never have wanted that.” Why was she telling him all this? It could be used against her, it would be that she was sure of.  Rubbing her stomach as one of the babes kicked against her she relived his heat in his silver eyes. Sansa would take hate-filled eyes today over this torment she suffered every day without him. “What was your proposal Lord Baelish?”

 

“Listen to my full proposal before you say no.” Sansa tensed but nodded, “To take back the North we need an army and you do not have one. I have an army at my back and I have a far reach over some of the lands in the Fingers.” Sansa thought of Lord Rodrick and how he would be balking at this man, Sweet Robin was the real Lord of the Vale and Baelish just a placeholder until the boy turned ten and three, “We could take the North together Sansa.” He edged closer to her as if she were a wild animal ready to snap at him. “Think about it. We could strip Winterfell of the Boltons and reinstate you as the true queen in the North.”

 

She couldn’t help it any longer, “What do you want Baelish? You do not give this freely.” He bowed his head in acknowledgment. 

 

“I loved your mother a great deal but she loved another, you are so much like her. More beautiful and smarter. I would want to be your hand…. And consort.” Sansa’s mouth hung open at the brazen suggestion. Her consort. “I know you will never love me like you loved the Hound.”

 

“His name is Sandor.” She said automatically.

 

“I cannot replace Sandor, but I can give you the comfort you will need.” He stood up and closed the distance between the two of them, gently he pushed back a lock of hair from her face. “Think about it. I would not dare even think of wanting to lay with you until your children are born and you’ve recovered. And of course, any children borne of our union could be Starks as well.” He bent giving her a peck on the cheek, “I’ll be in my office should you come to a decision today.” He left quietly leaving Sansa to think. 

 

***

Pyter 

 

He made his way down to his office and without ceremony plopped into his large chair where he should be counting ledgers. Instead, all he could think about was her, and the babes he would put inside her. His manservant approached him with some tea and the letters that had arrived today. “When was she given the last dose?” He asked the man held up two fingers, “Double it today I don’t want any remnants of Sandor fucking Clegane in her. She’s mine.” The servant nodded and Baelish tossed him the bag. The smell of moontea in its natural form was distinct and pungent but with some tea, it was easily overcome. 

 

When his servant left, Lord Baelish began opening the messages several of them from the capitol and one from Cercei herself. Most of the letters were par for the course, detailed information on what was happening and who was sleeping with who. He saved the Queen Dowager's letter for last. Opening it could smell her expensive perfume on it, reading it quickly he smiled. It seemed the queen was none too happy with her soon to be good-daughter and even less happy that Joffrey was slipping from her claws. Joffrey was becoming more and more reckless and had ordered his best men to hunt down Sansa and Clegane. Pyter snorted, it would not be in anyone’s best interest if Sansa Stark was caught now. She was to prime a monarch to be handed over to a deranged inbred, he could still manipulate her. Still win her over to his cause and his bed. He just needed to get rid of those damn babies first. 

 

A knock sounded on the door and before he could call to open it Sansa swept in. Her gown a deep black with opalescent feathers lining her shoulders, Her red hair pulled up at her temples while the rest huge loose. Even pregnant she was a vision. “Pyter.” 

 

“Your Grace,” He stood and gave a half-bow, “Do you need a chair?”

 

“No, thank you. I came to tell you I accept your offer. On the condition that these children.” She gestured to her belly, “Will be my heirs, and ours, should we be blessed, will be next.” 

 

“I agree.” He smiled but at Sansa’s continued frown it faltered. 

 

“Understand Baelish I do not forgive you for what you did to my family. I do this for the North and for no other reason.” She turned and left him feeling as cold as the icy winds outside. 


	24. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor POV

Sandor limped as he carried the log alone up the hill, thinking of his daughter, Alice had grown in six months, putting on some weight and shooting up nearly four inches. She was nearly speaking in complete sentences too, something Sansa would have delighted in. He was sure she would have been training the girl to be a proper young lady by now. Alice helped with his grief, she curled up with him every night, her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. She demanded a story every night he thought about telling her stories of Sansa, but the would was still too fresh to talk about. Every time he thought about her his focus became her eyes, the tiny freckles splashed across her face and her giggle when he nuzzled her neck. So he resorted to telling her fables from his childhood. 

 

It was easy work but the time here gave him entirely too much time to think. It made the Hound restless and Sandor agitated. Still the peace was good for his Alice and she was all that mattered now. The day passed uneventful with the sounds of women singing and working at the evening meal and children playing. It should have been peaceful to any man. But Sandor was not any man, the war and rage that was bred into him forced him to resort to snapping at anyone that gets too close to him. He knew he had to face Sansa’s ghost eventually, but for all he was worth the thought scared the hell out of him.  

 

That evening as he stared up at the thatched roof he listened to his little girl sleep next to him he made sure she was sleeping soundly before getting up from their shared cot and going to the saddle bags. He’d not touched them in months despite Brother Rays insistence that he should, that it would  _ help  _ him. He didn’t want to see her things neatly packed and organized. But tonight he couldn’t sleep and knew only she could help, with one candle he took a deep breath and sat down flipping up the lid before he could change his mind. Her lavender scent wafted up at him somehow not diminished even after these long months. He wondered if she was haunting him then shook himself; Sansa was far too polite to continue to torment him. It was his own brain replaying her soft sighs in his ears and remembering her bright eyes when she would tease him. His name replaying on her sweet red lips again and again, he missed her. He missed more than the sex, or the fact that  _ he  _ had a beautiful wife. He simply missed her companionship and how intelligent she was. Sandor felt as if he had lost half of himself… no more than half, nearly all of himself with her gone. 

 

Gingerly he traced his fingertips over her plain brown dress his fingers resting on her tidy stitching that closed the hole the bolt had rent in her. He unknowingly smirked at the memory of the way she had ripped the reins from him and stomped a man to death with Stranger, all he could do was hold on to her hips. A new different kind of respect had shifted within him, she was his little bird of course, but now she was a direwolf and had proved it. Even Arya, strange little Arya, had started to view her sister differently after that.  Pulling out her dresses he put them in his lap the memory of her smile, her freckles and damn blue eyes took over his mind’s eye again. Taking another deep breath he let it sit in his lap, staring at the blood stain surrounding the stitching. The last time he’d seen her in the dress he’d been yanking it off of her in Rogar’s barn, he should have told her how beautiful she was, how precious she was to him then. Running his hands through his hair he let his breathing and emotions level out before reaching for the next item.

 

He reached for the plain wooden box flipping it open he found Lady’s blue collar and leash, his Stark pin. He was a Stark now, not Clegane as everyone still called him. Sometimes he felt the urge and the responsibility to the North and bringing them together, but he was a nobody to them. They would laugh and cast him out a pretender. He pulled out her journal wanting to save it for last, then looking in the bags again he found her thread and velvet bag, he peeked inside and snorted to himself as he realized what it was. He found a random stick with numbers carved into it and the phases of the moon engraved above the numbers, have no idea what it was he set it to the side and picked up the journal. 

 

The first page, neatly folded and dry, was their marriage contract, her dainty little signature next to his large sloppy one. He smirked when he remembered her admonishment of his handwriting, “ _ I’m a soldier little bird. Not a damn lordling.”   _ He’d stopped her rebuke with his lips. Flipping to the next page he saw her handwriting again, knitting his brows he read through her writings. 

 

_ “I have a confession I cannot tell even a septon. It would get back to the King and I would die and he would die. I couldn’t bare it if he did. Last night he called out my name in his sleep, I don’t know why other than a nightmare. He wont tell me about what, but he let me lay next to him and hum to him. Despite what he says he in fact does snuggle...quite well.  When he wrapped his arm around me I felt safe for the first time in months. I must admit that my thoughts strayed to less than pure,”  _ Sandor smiled-his little bird had been struggling just as hard as he had to restrain himself, _ “But then I started to wonder what kind of father he would be. Would he want boys or girls, would his sons look like him? I can’t stop the thoughts now. All I know is that he would protect anything that is his. And I think I want to be his.”  _ Had she thought of him as the father of her children? He flipped to the next page, it only had one sentence written on it. “ _ Seven Hells I think I love him.”  _ another weak smile tugged up at his lips, as he turned to the next page. 

 

Dates lined the top of the page with a simple X next to them, confused he looked down at her writing, it was mad rambling compared to what he’d just read,  _ “I am late, not just a day, not just a few days but a week- I am never late. How am I going to tell him? Should I tell him? What will he say? What would he do? He’ll start pacing back and forth until I get him to sit down, then he’ll demand that I be carried everywhere instead of walking. That will only slow us down- no I should wait at least until the quickening just to be sure I don’t want to break his heart if I’m wrong _ .” 

 

**_Quickening,_ ** Sandor gripped the edge of the journal, she was pregnant. She was fucking pregnant with  _ his  _ child. He flung the leather bound book down and shot to his feet chest heaving-she was fucking pregnant. His mind's eye flashed images of her heavy with his pup and her holding their little black haired son. He stomped outside of the hut slamming the door behind him pacing back and forth in front of his small home he tried to reason with himself she wasn’t sure, she would have told him if she was. 

 

Biting his tongue to stifle the screams that should have erupted from his throat he grabbed his ax and went to find a tree. Finding one he brought the ax up and swung sideways, the reverberations ripping up his arm every time he struck the thick trunk. Bark splintered every time his ax struck home, his mind forced an image of their son. Tall, black hair with her blue eyes. Another strike, then another. He’d never held a baby, never thought he would be able to hold his own baby. The tree, only about 10 feet tall, started to sway under his strikes. On growl he brought the ax up a final time the tree splintering and falling to the ground. 

 

“I think it’s dead.” Sandor swung around at the sound of Brother Ray’s voice, to angry but still in control Sandor threw down the ax.

 

“Fuck off.” 

 

“What happened?”

 

“Fuck. Off.” He snarled- this was his fault. “I went through her shit.” Brother Ray looked at the fallen tree then back up at the warrior.

 

“What did you find?” He asked, Sandor sighed heavily looking away from the religious man. “Clegane, we buried the Hound. Tell me.” 

 

Gritting his teeth his teeth he sat down on the fallen tree running his hands through his hair, “Fucking seven hells, she was pregnant.”  _ And I fucking failed her again. I let her get hurt when I promised to kill anyone who would try.  _ He thought to himself. The sudden weight of what he had lost crushed him forcing him to his knees a great sob erupting in a scream. It was too much for him, saving her, loving her, he had put all his hope in her. His everything and now she was gone. His wife and child were dead and he could not even bury them. Brother Ray kneeled next to him and rubbed the larger mans shoulder, silently witnessing Sandor’s emotions.

  
  


“I was married once, beautiful girl. Golden hair and amber eyes to match. Every time I came home she would leap up into my arms and demand or me to never leave again.” the man rolled his shoulders, when Sandor sat heavily on his haunches, “If I had listened she would still be alive. When I went with my lord on his next campaign our village was sacked, she fought to the death. Maribell was pregnant too.” He clapped his hand on Sandors knee, “It don’t get any easier. But your big ass has to make room for it and quick. You got a little girl depending on you.” Sandor remained silent, fingering her braided hair at his wrist. “Alice needs her father.” 

 

They sat in silence until thunder rolled over head and he forced himself to get up, grabbing his ax he left the Septon sitting on the newly fallen tree. As he opened the door Alice raced up to him, her doll in one hand and her eyes were puffy and red from crying. Bending down he grabbed her and set her on his hip, a difficult task given how narrow they were, “What’s the matter little one?”

 

“You lefted.” She pouted, thunder cracked overhead and she screamed burying her head in his shoulder trying to get away from the sound. She clutched at him as he made his way to the cot and kicked off his now muddy boots. Laying down he pulled the blanket over both of them. “I was gonna be alone again.” 

 

“No little one, I had to take care of something.” he whispered to her, “You won’t be alone.”

 

***

 

Despite his rage and sadness Sandor felt stronger and healthier than ever, his muscles still held the same strength they did when he was in King’s Landing as demonstrated by yet another large tree he was carrying to the sept Brother Ray was having them build. Once he was up the green hill he dropped the log and caught his breath, he turned to looked down the hill Alice was ‘helping’ the other women cook the midday meal. He scratched under his ever growing beard, the damn thing was itchy but with the length he was able to hide some of the exposed bone in his jaw line.  

 

He grabbed his ax as men dodging out of his way as he made his way to chop the needed wood for the sept. It was his job to chop the large logs into more manageable pieces for the smaller men. The grueling work had his body back in fighting shape in months now he simply enjoyed the fact that he got to chop something in half. He suspected Brother Ray had given him the job to work out dome of his anger, it didn’t matter, he would never be entirely free of it. The Hound was always lurking there, alone and without his mate to calm him. The little Bird was the only place the Hound ever felt at peace, now without her fucking blue eyes and smell the dog was ever present. 

 

“In all my life I’ve never seen a man swing an ax like that.” He heard Brother Ray say from behind him. He grunted as he brought the ax down on the log the wood splinters flying every which way, “How many men did it take to cut you down?”

 

“Just one.” He said shrugging off the vest he’d been given, the yellow shirt would be next if he continue to sweat like this.  

 

“Ohhh.” He made an impressed sound as Sandor swung the ax down again. “He must have been some kind of monster.” Brother Ray knew he didn’t like talking about that day but the man insisted. He swung the ax down harder, nearly cleaving to the middle of the log.

 

“He was a woman.” He grumbled. Brother Ray laughed, turning away from the now angry giant of a man. Quitting his laughter as the log split into two under Sandor’s next strike and feral growl. 

 

The bell rang for the midday break and he limped down the hill toward his little girl. No one here actively sought out his company but all the women helped him with Alice, mending her clothes and showing him how to brush the girls hair; even how to braid it. He knew they knew his story, one woman had even said she was sorry for his loss. She was Josie, Alice’s main caretaker while he was helping with the men. They’d had a few brief conversations in which he learned Josie had a sister that had the same sort of face as his Alice, she told him she would be a bit slow as she got older but that was about it. So it proved to be true as the girl had blossomed under Josie’s affections. 

 

“Dad!” She bounced up into him. He smiled, she’d finally got the full word down and now he couldn't stop smiling every time she said it to him. Once he got their meals he made sure she ate before running to go play with the other children before finishishing his own now cold meal. 

 

“I think the men are a bit afraid of you.” Brother Ray said to him as he handed him a cup of water. 

 

He accepted it before answering, “I’m used to it.” 

 

The older man walked around him to sit on a stone next to him, “When I found you I thought you’d been dead for days. Even with her throwing rocks at me. You were stinkin’ already and had bugs on over ya. And Bone was coming out right there.” He pointed to a spot in Sandors straightened leg, it was still uncomfortable to keep bent. He narrowed his eyes at the Septon who’d touched him, he leaned away from the annoyingly friendly man. Still this was the closest he’d been to someone since Sansa, “I was gonna give you a proper burial, then you coughed,  _ HUH _ , nearly shit myself. I reckoned you were gonna die by the time I loaded you on the wagon but you didn’t and I reckoned you’d die a dozen more times over the next few days but you didn’t. What kept you going?” 

 

Sandor’s eyes trailed down to Alice her little from dancing around the other girls in a game of catch. Swallowing his food Sansa came to his mind for the hundredth time that day, he’d promised her he would kill the Stranger for her but never counted on the Stranger taking her from him first. Hate rolled up in his body for the cruel gods who thought it a joke to give him the perfect woman then snatch her away from him. “Hate.” He answered.

 

“No, there's a reason your still here.”

 

“Aye there’s a reason. I’m a big fucker and I’m tough to kill.” He’d told that to Sansa once, so it continued to be true.  

 

“No a reason, Gods aren't done with you yet.” 

 

“Heard that before, only the man was talking about a different god though.”

 

“Well maybe he was right, I don’t know much about the gods.”  

 

“You’re in the wrong line of work.” Sandor snorted.

 

“Oh there are plenty of pious sons of bitches that think they know the word of god or gods.” Sansa knew, Sandor thought to himself. She’d been gifted by the old gods, “I don’t. I don’t even know their real names…”

 

Sandor cut him off, “The old gods are the only gods that matter.” he said surprising even himself. 

 

‘How do you know?”

 

“My wife was blessed.” He grumbled down at his food, “She could heal a man with her want alone.” 

 

“She didn’t heal you.” Brother ray pointed out. 

 

“She tried.” Sandor set aside his half-eaten meal. “I didn’t believe in magic or any general fuckery that wasn’t blood, steel, or fire before her.”

 

“What was your wife's name?” 

 

“Fuck off.” He said not able to bring himself to say her name. 

 

“Alright then.” The brother said, “I need you to hunt for the group tomorrow Clegane. We are running low on meat. Can you do that?”

 

“Aye, Stranger needs a ride anyway. I’ll leave Alice with Josie and don’t be given her no honey too early in the morning.” He glared up at the man. Like a guilty grandfather, he held up his hands in defeat.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again to Erin_Bocca for editing XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
> 
> All characters belong to GRRM, I own nothing.


End file.
